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Sabbath Library, Vol. 9, No. 291. Published Oct. 1. 189H. 


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T ▼ ▼ V ▼ T T T ▼ ▼ r-r W T V ▼ V~ T ~w ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ T VT T T f T T ^ ¥ V T T T T ¥ ¥ ¥ T V T ▼ ▼ T ▼ T T T T V T ▼ V T T ▼ T T T~V~T 1 




The Wrestler of Philippi. 

A TALE OF THE EARLY CHRISTIANS. 


By Fannie E. Newberry. 


CHATTER L 
TIIE LOST AMULET. 

HY, what is this?” 

The speaker dropped the heavy door- 
curtain he had just drawn aside, and 
strode rapidly across the stone floor to a figure 
at the further end — a girlish figure resting on a 
divan, and doubled up with weeping. 

She did not answer instantly, and the young 
man stood beside her looking down with a help- 
less patience for a moment, as if uncertain what 
to do or say. Presently he spoke again: 

“ Has anything happened, Salome?” 

“Happened? How can you ask?” the other 
managed to sob out in a voice of almost petulant 
reproach. 

“ I mean anything new,” he hastened to ex- 
plain with an air of meekness. “ Of course — •” 

“ Of course you cannot or will not understand. 
Hector. You never do. Is a grief the less keen 
because it grows older daily? Can I ever get 
used to this?” 

“ We do get used to things,” ho returned 
slowly, gazing down at her from his superior 
height, as a good-natured but lumbering camel 
might gaze upon a fawn. “ We have to control 
our grief or it would kill us, you see. Come, try 
and stop, can you not? It is time for the evening 
meal, and I am hungry.” 

“Hungry! Men are always thinking of their 
comforts. Have you not one thought for our 
poor lost Herklas, wandering no one knows how, 
or whither?” 

The man’s face twitched with some internal 
emotion, but, absorbed in her own luxurious sor- 
row, Salome did not see it. After a moment he 
said gently: 

“ But is there anything new, dear? I left you 
quite bright, this morning. What have you 
heard ?” 

“.Nothing. But I know now all is over. 
Herklas will never return.” Then rising and 
facing him. with her dark eyes awed to steadi- 
ness, she whispered solemnly, “ Hector, I have 
lost my amulet! The gods have given me over 
to the fates, find sorrow is to be my portion.” 

“Bah!” cried the brother, throwing back liis 
broad shoulders nud letting out a merry laugh 

from his splendid chest, ” t* that all? I Wari 

I8.a, fcy n 


sure you had news that Herklas was in prison 
at least, if not sent to the galleys— or even dead 
by torture.” He shuddered a little. “ And it is 
only your amulet?” 

“ Only!” Her red lips curled angrily, and she 
began gathering up her fair tresses and thrust- 
ing them into their silken fillet with a petulant 
gesture. “ Is not that enough? What is to keep 
me from evil and misfortune now?” 

“ Well, sister, perhaps I can help a little!” 
stretching out his long, massive arms, quite 
bare of covering, and bringing them back to an 
angle that made the muscles stand up like 
hillocks. “ I think, possibly, I may have a word 
to say, or a move to make, provided misfortune 
comes in a visible form, eh?” 

His persistent good-humor overcame her at 
last, and her pretty teeth gleamed in an irre- 
pressible smile as she cried archly: 

“ Boaster! Do you think yourself even a 
match for the gods, then, because you have 
twice worn the Olympian crown? But indeed, 
dear Hector, it is a serious loss. It was of purest 
silver from the Cordovan mines, wrought by a. 
silversmith of Ephesus, and delicately chased 
with one of the most favorable signs of the 
zodiac. Then it held a bit of the hair from a 
sacred white bull, and had been blessed by a 
Vestal. Think of its value, brother. Why, such 
an amulet is priceless!” 

“ But where did you lose it, child?” 

“ What a question!” laughing merrily now. 
“If I knew that, would I be crying here? It 
was hanging from a cord of silver wire about 
my neck but a day or two ago, and now it is 
gone— that is all I can tell you.” 

“ Have you looked for it?” 

“ Yes, everywhere.” 

“ Well, well! crying will not bring it back, and 
the gods hate tears. Besides, I am so hungry, 
Salome!” 

He spoke in pleading tones, like a school-boy, 
for he knew this would conquer her; and it did. 

“ Very w T ell,” she said promptly, “ light the 
brazier then, and I will steep you a cup from the 
chocolate beans you brought home yesterday. 
Then there are dates, oatcake, and fish. Will 
these serve you?” 

“ Excellent well, sistel 4 ! only make haste.” * 

And quite restored to gooddnimur now, Salome 

jkippid away on light feet to bestir her one 



2 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI 


little slave, rersis, to these pleasant household 
tasks. 

Left alone, Hector threw himself on the divan 
of sail-cloth, made in imitation of the rich 
couches draped in silk and gold stuffs much 
affected in the houses of the Roman nobles, and 
was soon in sad reflection, which plowed a deep 
line between his wide-set blue eyes. Because 
lie was a Wrestler, and therefore used to sights 
of blood and suffering in the arena, did not seem, 
so far, to make his heart less tender to his own; 
and presently, as memory after memory of his 
lost brother, Herklas, rose-before him, long sighs 
shook his close-knit figure from head to foot. 

Herklas had been such a beautiful boy, and 
only six months in the toga virilis, which marked 
the Roman youth’s coming into man’s estate at 
fifteen. To be sure, he had never taken to the 
Olympic games, as had Hector, and had shrunk 
visibly from the often frightful spectacles which 
had been introduced into them since the Romans 
ruled; but lie was no coward— he had proved that 
often enough in many an adventure of boyish 
daring and skill. It was only his instinctive 
good-heartedness that shrank from blows and 
bloodshed, not because he himself feared their 
hurt. 

Then where could such a form be found in 
these degenerate days, outside the statues of the 
masters? Hector recalled him as he had lain at 
meat, the. last morning he was with them. He 
had been full of his fun and nonsense, selecting 
choice bits from the platter for Salome, and 
laughing gayly as she eagerly received them. 
He had never been selfish, never sullen, or 
severe — this well-loved brother. But there had 
been times when his whole nature seemed to re- 
volt against the license and wickedness of the 
age, and he had dared sometimes even to criti- 
cise the gods, and wonder at the tyranny of 
emperor, praetors, and priests. Could spies 
have listened and reported these words, and was 
he in durance because of them? Certainly there 
could be no truth in the suspicion of his master’s 
that he had been led away by the obscure and 
singular sect they called Christians! 

Hector turned himself nervously about, the 
old couch creaking beneath his tall, sinewy 
frame, and just then Salome’s welcome face ap- 
peared, as she drew aside an inner curtain and 
announced supper. He rose with a quick mo- 
tion, as if thrusting sad thoughts far from him, 
and strode into the next room, where a modest 
board was laid in the shape of a crescent, with a 
broad divan surrounding it, except at the open- 
ing, which gave room for the servant to enter 
and pass the dishes inside the half circle. The 
brother and sister always ate together, for Hec- 
tor loved and tenderly cherished his one female 
relative, who had indeed been half spoiled by 
her doting brothers. 

By mutual consent the subject of the brother 
now gone for over a fortnight, was not resumed 
at first, nor that of the lost amulet. Instead, 
Hector told of a new throw he had been practic- 


ing at the gymnasium, and Salome grew cheef-- 
ful chatting over a call from an old playmate not 
before seen for many moons. She had sketched 
in detail her looks, her dress, and all she said, 
when she suddenly broke off to cry: 

“ There! I know I had that amulet on when 
she came, for I saw it gleam on my neck as I 
glanced in the bit of steel mirror set into the 
wall of our vestibule when I hastened to admit 
her. Let me see!” 

She buried her dimpled chin in her hand and 
thought a minute, then sprang to her feet. “ I 
believe I have it! I followed dear Theta across 
the court to the very street entrance and peeped 
out through the wall gate, as we said farewell. 
Then I saw an escort of soldiers, with some of 
those gay courtiers from the Castle, coming 
close, and knew it was best not to let them see 
me, as I was unveiled, so I hastily shut the gate. 
And now I remember that I caught the silken 
tassel of my fillet in the latch, and had to jerk it 
away— perhaps it was then I dropped my charm. 
Come, Hector, if you have finished your supper 
let us go and see.” 

He rose good-naturedly. “ If it fell outside it 
has been picked up long before this,” he said, 
chewing complacently on his last date. 

“ Yes, but it may be inside, you see, or caught 
in a cleft of the wall, or brushed into a corner. 
Bring a lantern, Persis, and let us try. If I can 
find it again I shall take it for a good omen.” 

The small iron censer, flat in shape and swung 
from three chains, was brought and lighted, 
Salome caught up a chlamys, or long wrap, 
tossed it picturesquely over her head, winding it 
about her chin and lips so that only the brow 
and eyes were visible, then crying impatiently, 
“ Come!” started out first, Hector striding more 
slowly after, while Persis contented herself with 
clearing away the food, satisfying her own 
hunger with large mouthfuls as she did so. 

Salome reached the wall door first, and shuf- 
fled her sandals with gay impatience on the 
smooth paving stones, as she awaited her 
brother’s leisurely approach. Their little home 
was situated on one of the more quiet streets of 
Philippi, and this was unlighted, except by a 
pale thread of a moon, low in the western sky. 
With the deliberate movements peculiar to him 
Hector inserted a clumsy key into the lock of 
the small portal, turned it, and let one wooden 
leaf fall inward upon its hinges. Then the two 
passed through the aperture, and, lifting high 
the lantern, began a search for the amulet, so 
precious to this heathen girl. 

Both bent low, Hector fairly on his knees, 
searching the crevices of the stone pavement, 
and Salome, doubled under the long folds of her 
drapery, peering along the clear-running ditch 
of snow-water, brought from the mountains, 
which separated the sidewalk from the high- 
way. They knew how unsafe were the streets 
at night in these lawless times, when the dis- 
solute young officers from the Castle sometimes 
chose to steal out, disguised and paasked, in 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


3 


search of adventure, to say nothing of thieves 
and rioters of lesser rank, who dared the galleys 
and the terrible dungeons to ply their vocation. 

But what could happen so near home? A 
step would place them behind the wall and 
locked door in their own little castle, which no 
one would dare to invade. So they continued to 
look about, oblivious of everything but their 
own exclamations and remarks, with which 
each spurred on the search. 

Thus they failed to notice an outburst of song 
and laughter on a side street close by, or, per- 
haps, did not think it worth minding, and both 
were startled when suddenly at their very 
elbows appeared a tumultuous little crowd of 
well-muffled men, one or two bearing lanterns, 
and the rest reeling about with noisy talk and 
laughter. 

“Quick!” cried Hector. “Run, Salome, run!” 

But already the rioters had caught sight of the 
slender, white-draped figure, and with a loud 
laugh one tall young fellow leaped into the open 
gateway, barring her passage, while two more 
sprang to her sides, intercepting her movements. 

Instantly Hector was upon them, and his 
arena training stood him in good stead now. At 
every swing of his powerful arms some one fell 
back with a howl of pain, and almost while one 
could tell it the whole party had dispersed, 
hastened thereto by the cry of one of the lan- 
tern-bearers: 

“ The bucket-men! The bucket-men!” 

. Breathing heavily, Hector looked about him. 
The crowd had melted like the dew, and Salome 
too was gone, having doubtless fled to the inner- 
most recesses of the house. 

Hector had no desire to be interviewed by the 
troublesome lictors, whom the populace called 
“ men of the bucket ” because they acted as a 
fire-patrol with tarred buckets of water in hand, 
as well as guardians of the streets. So he took 
advice of caution and, slipping quickly inside, 
locked his gate securely and hurried indoors, 
chuckling to think how surprised those young 
brawlers must have been to feel the weight of 
fists as hard as iron, and as heavy as a sledge- 
hammer. 

The house was dark and still. As he stepped 
within from the moonlit court it struck a chill 
to his senses. 

“ Salome!” he called softly. “ Salome!” 

A frightened exclamation answered him, and 
the little slave girl, her eyes big with terror, con- 
fronted him. 

“Oh!” she cried, “where is my mistress?” 

“ But do you not know?” he returned quickly. 
“ She is here, of course— she must be. She is 
hidden somewhere, too scared to speak. Salome, 
dear! I am here. Your brother protects you. 
Oh. Salome, for Vesta’s sake answer!” 

But only the bare walls echoed his despairing 
cry. He ran to and fro, calling, searching, be- 
seeching, groaning, cursing. He sent the little 
slave hither and yon, fierce as he had never been 
with her before, in his terrible anxiety. He ran 


to the roof, gazing out over the now silent street 
with great gasping breaths of despair. He 
sought in impossible nooks and crannies be- 
low, the tears gushing unashamed from liis 
manly eyes, and then with a roar of rage and* 
desperation, like a lion rushing upon its tor- 
mentors, lie dashed out into the street, calling on 
the lictors for vengeance, utterly bereft of sense 
or caution. 

Poor little Persis, frightened nearly out of her 
small wits, followed swiftly to the gate, and 
shook her head in perplexity as she slowly 
clanged it to behind him. Then throwing her- 
self down in a dark corner of the wall, she 
crouched in a small heap, motionless with 
terror, and softly cried herself to sleep. 


CHAPTER II. 

IN AN UPPER CHAMBER. 

D URING this turbulent scene, so com- 
mon in all pagan cities as to cause no 
more than a passing thought to those who, 
safely locked within their own home walls, 
gladly turned a deaf ear to the brawls and 
crimes without, there was another scene taking- 
place, as unlike this as the still lake of the moun- 
tains is unlike the sea in the fury of a storm. In 
a small room dimly lighted by flaring pine-knots, 
was gathered a little company, possibly twenty 
in number, who were noticeable only for their 
quiet manners, plain dress, and serene and lofty 
expression. 

They were of all ages above young childhood, 
and they entered by twos and threes, stealing 
noiselessly to the barred outer door, there to give 
a peculiar knock which quickly gained them 
entrance. A password was spoken in a whisper, 
that most common being the Greek word 
“ Ikthus,” signifying “ fish.” This, universally 
given as the sign of the faith among believers, 
had a significance dear to them all, for its 
initials, taken in order, stood for “ Jesus Christ, 
the Son of God, the Savior.” It immediately ad- 
mitted them, this night, and once inside, a spirit 
of delightful cordiality and brotherhood seemed 
to prevail. 

They clasped hands like friends who meet 
after perils passed, and the gentle words, 
“ Peace be with you!” seemed a favorite greet- 
ing. There was little laughter, or loud merri- 
ment, but smiles, serenity, and peace, seemed to 
pervade the whole assembly. For, strangely 
enough, here the patrician, the freedman and the 
slave met upon terms of seeming equality, and 
addressed each other as “ brother ” and “ sis- 
ter,” All this, too, in a haughty Macedonian city 
that, in imitation of great Rome, of which it 
was a colony, disdained the rest of the world as 
conquered slaves, drawing the lines of rank so 
sharply that men had been thrown into dun- 


4 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


goons— yes, even executed— for daring to pre- 
sume upon certain privileges at banquet or in 
council chamber, in a simple matter of food, 
.dress, or ornament, arrogated by those of higher 
rank. 

The meeting was well under way, a hymn had 
been sung and a prayer offered, such as had 
never ascended to a heathen deity, when once 
more came the peculiar knock, this time louder, 
more imperative and startling than was cus- 
tomary. 

The outer door having been opened, there was 
an unusual commotion in the small square ves- 
tibule, which caused the Presbyter, or leader, 
just beginning to address the assembly, to cease 
speaking and look intently that way. Every 
one’s eyes followed his. In each face was ex- 
pectation and something of anxiety, but neither 
fear nor cringing. They knew this might mean 
arrest, imprisonment, possibly death, for each 
and all, but they faced it steadily, as those who 
rest upon a Power stronger than their own. 

The door opened wide and two women and a 
man entered, half leading, half carrying, the 
figure of another female, well muffled in white 
and apparently unconscious. 

“ Forgive our untimely interruption, breth- 
ren,” said the man in deprecating tones, “ but 
we found this woman lying in the deep angle of 
the doorway, and she seems badly hurt, or very 
ill. We cannot make her answer, so far, and she 
appears dazed and sick.” 

“ Let the women care for her,” said the Pres- 
byter in tones that were instinctively command- 
ing, though not with arrogance. 

At once the women gathered about the figure, 
which had been laid on a divan, and putting- 
back her chlamys, one said: 

“Ah, but she is a girl only, and so fair!” 

“ Yes, and by her dress a modest one,” put in 
another. “ Poor child! how came she out at this 
hour?” 

“ See, she is hurt!” cried another, pointing to a 
swelling rising rapidly above the stranger’s fore- 
head. “ She has had a heavy blow— there! her 
eyes are opening. Stand back a little and do 
not frighten her with so many strange faces.” 

Salome — for our readers have guessed it was 
she— did indeed open her eyes and gaze about. 
At first her expression was wild and unnatural, 
but presently it became more rational and only 
wondering in quality. 

“ Did they kill me?” she asked in a weak voice. 
“ Is this the Realm of Shades? and you— surely 
you are not the cruel Eumenides come to harass 
me? You look too kind for that!” 

“ No, no, child! you are still upon earth and 
quite safe with those who mean you well,” said 
one of the women who had assisted the girl in. 
“Are you feeling better now?” 

“ My head aches,” raising her hand feebly to 
the swelled brow. “ I remember— it was that 
How! It must have knocked lne senseless, Oil, 
did Hector get nwny? Were they too many for 
him? How ho did tight! But I could not get in* 


side the gate, there were so many in my way. 
Where is Hector?” 

The women looked at each other, and one with 
a peculiarly sweet face answered gently: 

“ He is not here just now. Who gave you the 
blow, fair maiden?” 

“ I do not know, lady. I ran down the narrow 
court close by our house to get away, and soon I 
heard footsteps which I thought were Hector’s. 
I turned to speak, and something came crashing 
down upon my head— that is all I can recall 
about it.” 

“ Who is Hector?” asked the dame again, as 
she tenderly bathed the wound, and bound it up 
with her own kerchief. 

“ My brother. We were looking for my lost 
amulet. Alas! it is as I said— the gods have 
given us over to destruction.” 

“ No, my child. God has protected and spared 
you. You fell into the deep shadow of our door- 
way, where no one else could see you until our 
feet were guided hither by grace.” . 

“ But Hector?” 

“ He too will be cared for— fear not! Our God 
is ‘ mighty to save.’ ” 

“You mean great Jupiter, because he is the 
protector of the Games? If only he will!” 

“No, child, we mean— but wait! Her head is 
troubling her again. Let her rest.” 

For even with the words Salome’s eyes took 
on a wild look and she was soon tossing and 
muttering with fever. Finding she was to prove 
an all-night’s care, at least, these kind Samari- 
tans removed her to a pallet in a small room of 
the little house, and left one of their number to 
sit beside her, while the others reverently re- 
turned to the meeting. Here, quickly putting 
aside the interruption, they listened with rap- 
ture to the words of hope, comfort and encour- 
agement spoken by their leader, and joined 
eagerly in such prayers and hymns as seemed to 
bring heaven into the plain little room, hidden 
by its humbleness from outer violence. 

It was the middle of the next forenoon before 
Salome came to herself once more. All night 
she had tossed in the grip of fever, tenderly 
soothed and cared for by the sweet-faced 
woman, who proved to be the occupant of the 
house, and who was called Elizabeth. She was 
a young matron of a gentle cast of countenance, 
yet one versed in faces might have read in the 
brow, well developed above the eyes, and in the 
lips and chin, fine-grained but firm, a power of 
endurance and a force of will which the singu- 
larly quiet ways and speech scarce hinted at. 
The first impression she gave was entirely rest- 
ful. In her eyes was a peace passing compre- 
hension, Salome thought, as she curiously 
watched her, and she wondered what could give 
her that supreme content, for she was evidently 
very poor, and her garments were such as the 
pretty Greek girl would have scorned to wear. 
Besides, her pallor shotved she was hot well, and 
her husband seemed a gruff* silent man who 
Wk« roughly, if at alb 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI 


5 


Salome from her pallet 'watched every gentle 
movement and puzzled much to learn why, 
through all that was hard and trying, she 
seemed still to hug some secret consciousness of 
joy so close that no mere outward happening 
could affect it in the least. 

“ Perhaps,” thought the little pagan after she 
had lain for an hour or two thus questioning, 
“ perhaps she has received an oracle from the 
Priest of Apollo at the temple. Perhaps she 
feels sure that, no matter what may happen 
just now, she will have good fortune later on, 


say I was born in our beautiful city— Jerusalem. 
But my husband, Junius, is a Roman, free born.” 

“• Indeed?” questioned Salome with wonder, 
for the marriage of a free-born Roman to a Jew 
was extremely rare. Her hostess smiled a little 
and asked with gentle irony: 

“ Do you think that so unlikely? Yet why not, 
Salome? There is neither Jew, nor Greek, nor 
Roman either, in the sight of God — all are equal 
and his children.” At which the girl, still too 
weak to argue, only stared dumbly, amazed at 
such strange ideas. 



Instantly Hector was upon them, and his arena training stood him in good stead —See page 3.' 


and so bides her time, and scarcely knows any- 
thing is wrong. It looks that way. Ah! I was 
happy till I lost my amulet— that is,” as memory 
came fully back, “ I was as happy as people 
usually are in this world. Of course I wanted 
to be rich and noble, and it was a great trial to 
have to walk instead of being carried in a litter 
through the streets, but— I had my brothers.” 

She drew a long sigh, and Elizabeth came 
quickly to her side. 

“You are weary?” she asked with her placid 
smile. “ Shall I talk to you?” 

“ Please tell me about yourself, dear lady. I 
wonder about you as I lie here, and that tires 
me.” 

Elizabeth laughed brightly. “ There is so lit- 
tle to tell! You have guessed from my dress 
that I am a Jewish woman, and I am proud to 


“ But,” 1 bought she, “ those Jews are all queer. 
I have even heard they claim to have a special 
god, who leads and cares for them. I suppose, 
too, they really were rich and powerful once, 
but now what miserable creatures they are!” 

For, though one of an enslaved nation herself, 
being a conquered Thracian, Salome looked 
down upon the universally hated Jew. Yet this 
was only as a class; in individual cases she 
often liked and even honored them. So now she 
listened to Elizabeth, thinking how sweet her 
smile and soft her voice, until sleep closed her 
eyes in rest, which did much to restore her to 
perfect health. 

Seeing how very weak she still was, her 
hostess left her to slumber and stepped outside 
into the narrow court of the humble dwelling. 
Here she called softly, “ Nadab! Nadab!” and 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


0 

presently a little boy, who so closely resembled 
the fair Jewess that no one could have mistaken 
their relationship, came bounding in from the 
street. 

“ Well, mother?” he asked in a voice full of 
loving respect, “ wliat is it you need me for 
now?” 

“ I will tell you, my son; but first, did you wet 
up the flags as I bade you?” 

“ Yes, mother.” 

“ That is right. And now I want you to go to 
the second street south, and look along its length 
until you come to a low house close by a narrow 
walled court, and upon the corner of a paved and 
covered footway leading east. Inquire there 
for a man named Hector, and when he is found 
tell him his sister is here and safe, though ill, 
and that he may come and see her. if he please.” 

“ Very well, mother.” Then in a whisper, 
“ But is she a Christian?” and he nodded his 
head toward the house to indicate the guest of 
a night. 

“ No, Nadab, she is a pagan.” 

“ But, mother, why then—” 

“ My boy, have you not yet learned the true 
spirit of Christ? Does he make any distinction 
in his love and succor? Is not our great Paul, 
whom we are soon expecting here, constantly 
showing this to us in all his teachings? Surely, 
Nadab, you Know this.” 

“ Yes, yes, I was not meaning just that. I was 
thinking of— of our safety, mother.” 

“ We can leave that with Jesus, child,” she an- 
swered with a smile that made her pale face 
radiant. 

The boy looked at her with a little wonder and 
much admiration in his eyes. Then he gave his 
head a wise shake. 

“ But father?” he asked archly. 

Elizabeth’s uplifted countenance clouded 
swiftly over for an instant, then as swiftly 
cleared. 

“ Let us trust he will be glad to have us do the 
right thing, Nadab — and until he speaks we will 
take his consent for granted. Now run along, 
my son, and raise no more objections, I beg.” 

Her sweet smile softened the reproof, and he 
waved his hand gayly to her as he started 
briskly off upon his errand. But his mother, 
left alone, stood a moment in thoughtful silence, 
then bent her head and clasped her hands. She 
was asking help for needs which only she and 
her God could understand. In a moment, 
cheered and strengthened, she turned away, 
sought out from a little shed at the rear of the 
court a large bunch of flags, and seating herself 
on the stone pavement, was soon busily em- 
ployed weaving them into a basket. 

It was not a great while before Nadab re- 
turned, looking flushed from his run in the blaz- 
ing sunshine. As soon as he could catch his 
breath he burst out with a long story. He had 
been everywhere in the near vicinity without 
finding any trace of the man, for the little house 
she had told him of was evidently deserted. He 


had knocked loud and long without making any 
one hear, and when some of the neighbors ap- 
peared, to ask what he wanted, they had told 
him that not one of the family had been seen 
this morning. One of these, who had been wake- 
ful last night, believed that Hector had been 
dragged off by the “ bucket-men ” to prison, and 
that Salome and her little maid had fled to some 
friends in another part of the city. 

“ And did you let them know where she really 
is?” asked Elizabeth quickly. 

Nadab looked at her with a merry expression 
on his face. “ Do you think I am so foolish?” he 
laughed. “ No, I told them nothing.” 

“ It was not necessary,” responded the mother 
with dignity. “ Though we must always be 
‘ harmless as doves,’ so must we be ‘ wise as 
serpents ’ also, in these hard times. We will do 
our best for the poor heathen girl, but we cannot 
let her friends know all the secrets of our home. 
Well, what next?” 

“ I had just finished talking with the man and 
was turning away to come home, he having gone 
inside, when a big boy with a. splendid face and 
figure came swinging down the street. He 
passed me by and, as I looked back after him, I 
saw that he, too, had gone to the little wall gate, 
and was knocking as if he fully expected to get 
in. Finding nobody came, he stepped back and 
looked the house all over with surprise, then 
knocked again, this time in an odd way — three 
raps, a rest— two more, a rest — then one. But no 
one came. After a little he began walking 
slowiy towards me, still looking back as if he 
could not give it up. I thought this might be 
the one I w r as looking for, as he was a well- 
grown youth, so I stepped up to him and asked, 

‘ Is your name Hector?’ He looked at me in a 
queer way for a minute, then said, ‘ No; wdiy 
do you ask me that?’ But you have taught me 
caution, mother, so I only said, ‘ No matter,’ and 
walked away.” 

“ That was right, Nadab. Still — ” His mother 
mused a moment. “ No, she has spoken only of 
the one brother, Hector. And they really think 
he is in prison? Poor child! What will she do? 
She seems to have no other protector. I have 
talked with her a little and she says they are 
orphans. But come, while she sleeps w T e must 
hurry on the weaving, that we may earn the 
more to care for her. Sit right down here by 
me. You will soon grow cool in this shade.” 

For this Christian woman and her son eked 
out the scanty family purse by weaving bas- 
kets, and thus were enabled to carry on their 
charities without trenching upon what was re- 
quired by the master of the house, the haughty 
Junius. He was, meantime, at his post as driver 
of a gang of street-cleaners, called police, mostly 
convicts or runaway slaves undergoing punish- 
ment, and thus condemned to serve at hard 
labor, chained together by twos, or fours, under 
a task-master who kept them to their labor with 
a whip of many thongs, called a scourge. 

It was an employment to brutalize any man, 


TIIE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


7 


and Elizabeth grieved in secret as she saw her 
once kind and loving husband grow daily more 
haughty, stern, and importunate of his own 
rights and comforts. Junius was not a Chris- 
tian, nor in fact much of a pagan, either. He 
affected the hard philosophy of Seneca, Socrates, 
and lesser teachers, who bade men endure be- 
cause they must, until endurance became im- 
possible, when they were pointed to but one re- 
lief — the “ open door.” 

This door of death by one’s own hand was 
startlingly common. When a man lost heart 
or fortune, favor at court,- or the prefer- 
ment he had been hoping for, he fell upon his 
sword, or drank the poisoned cup, and really 
thought himself brave because he dared the 
dark unknown rather than suffer defeat in the 
present life. As if one could ever escape dis- 
grace by added cowardice! As if such a death 
were not the loudest proclamation of utter de- 
feat! As if it were not always a braver thing to 
meet a foe face to face than to turn the back and 
leap into a pit to escape him! 

Yet Junius was but one of many who, dis- 
gusted with a religion which made the gods but 
a more powerful humanity, controlled by the 
every-day passions of every-day men. set him- 
self up as his own only god to worship as long 
as he could stand erect, and to slay as soon as 
he was forced to yield to circumstances. 

It was a dark, cold, and selfish belief, warping 
both heart and understanding, and Elizabeth’s 
wifely heart yearned to bring him to a knowl- 
edge of the warm, living, loving faith in which 
she joyed and triumphed; but so far her efforts 
had been vain. 


CHAPTER III. 

WITH ELIZABETH. 

B Y and by Salome, waking from her long 
nap, heard soft strains stealing from the 
next room, apparently. She lay quite still, 
hardly awake yet, and dreamily listened. There 
were two voices, evidently— one a boy’s, and the 
other, with its smooth, clear cadences, she felt 
certain belonged to her sweet-faced hostess. 

Salome smiled in quiet enjoyment. She felt 
serenely comfortable; her head had ceased to 
throb, her fever to burn. A refreshing breeze 
blew across her from a window close by, bring- 
ing the faint perfume of jasmine blossoms, and 
the room in which she lay was fresh and cool 
from a recent wet sweeping and sanding. It 
was a tiny room, and plain to meagreness. Yet 
it gave her none of that repulsion she always 
felt in the homes of the very poor with which 
she was familiar, for its atmosphere was sweet 
with cleanliness. 

The room, her own white pallet, the perfume, 
and the song seemed somehow to melt and 
mingle in a perfect harmony, and she closed her 


eyes restfully, listening, while her body basked 
in calm repose. To this mood the music seemed 
to add its enjoyment, for it was of a gentle, 
peaceful character, and the voices, if untrained, 
were sincere and sweet. She listened to the 
words: 

“ But God, who is so rich in grace.” 

“How queer!” she thought. “That means 
kindness, good-will, generous giving. Not rich 
in great countries, luscious fruits, or beautiful 
garments and jewels— no, nor even in magnifi- 
cent temples and many priests,” — as she had 
always imagined her gods to be rich. 

“ By His love, freely given.” 

“ Oh, freely, indeed! No, no!” thought the lit- 
tle pagan, “ that is not quite true. We must win 
great Apollo’s or Diana’s favors by gifts and 
sacrifices, and constant propitiation in proces- 
sions and offerings.” 

But the song went on: 

“ E’en while we yet were dead in sin 
Hath raised us up to heaven.” 

“ Dead in sin!”— that struck her as a singular 
expression. It made her think of Pluto and the 
dark Nether World of helpless Shades and 
wicked Daemons, but the next line was beau- 
tiful — “Hath raised us up to heaven!” 

She knew about Olympus, where the gods 
dwelt in bliss, though, when hearing of all their 
quarrels and heart-burnings, it often occurred to 
her that they could not find it entirely delightful 
there! But these singers chanted as if fairly in 
heaven nqw and here, gladness thrilling all along 
the sweet, slow notes, as melody and merriment 
shake from the quivering roulades of the mavis 
in the loveliness of early morning. It made 
Salome’s heart beat to a freer measure, also, 
and she rose up in bed, thinking: 

“ I must not lie here playing at illness when 
dear Hector may not know where I am. I will 
get up and put on my garments as soon as they 
cease that sweet singing.” 

But it stopped, even with her resolve, and in 
another instant the trim, small head of Eliza- 
beth appeared at the door. 

“ Are you awake?” she asked gayly, and 
Salome noticed on her fair face a radiance 
brighter than smiles. 

“ Yes,” was the reply, “ and much better. Has 
my brother come for me yet?” 

-Her hostess stepped closer. “My dear,” she 
said affectionately, “ I am glad you are better; 
but you must keep quiet yet a little while,” (see- 
ing the girl about to rise) “ or the fever may re- 
turn and undo all the benefit of this long sleep.” 

“ But my brother?” 

Elizabeth dipped a soft cloth in a jar of water 
standing near, and placed it on the wounded 
head. 

“ Peace, child!” she murmured, pressing the 
eager little figure back upon her pallet. “ My 
Nadab has been to look for your brother, but he 


8 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


is not at home 1 , it scorns, just now. Can you not 
wait patiently a few hours?” 

“ But it is so queer! Perhaps— where is Per- 
sis? Did he find her?” 

“Your little slave girl? No, the door was 
.locked. They may both be out seeking for you.” 

“ Why, surely!” Salome caught at the idea 
with relief. “ I never thought of that. Of 
course they would be. And how odd that I 
should be lying here, perfectly safe, so near 
home! Poor Hector! He will be in despair 
about me.” 

“ You are fond of your brother?” remarked the 
gentle woman, bringing her weaving and sitting 
down sociably close by. 

“ Of my brothers, you mean. Oh, yes!” 

Elizabeth looked up quickly. “ Then you 
have more than one?” 

“ Yes, two — Hector and Herklas.” 

“ But you did not mention the latter.” 

“ No, alas! for I do not know where he is.” 

Tears came into her eyes, and Elizabeth, fear- 
ing new agitation, said quickly: 

“ I should not have asked— we will speak of 
other things.” 

“ No, it will not hurt me to tell you. I have 
longed to talk about him, often, but Persis is so 
stupid, and Hector thinks it only makes me more 
unhappy. Herklas is my youngest brother— 1 
am between the two in age — not yet sixteen and 
the dearest boy in all the world.” 

“ Dearer .than Hector?” smiled the other, 
pleased with the girl's animation. 

“ Well, Hector is a great, strong man— more 
like a father, I often think, though a boy too in 
many ways. Besides, he is gone a great deal, 
for you must know he has twice won the wreath 
at the Olympics for wrestling. Thus he is ever 
thinking of his gymnasium, his new throws, and 
his plans for next year. But Herklas was al- 
most like a girl in some ways— gentle and kind. 
He likes music better than fighting, and we used 
to sing together by the hour to the merry strains 
of his viol. He was in training for the temple 
choir. He was away most of the day at the 
shop, to be sure, but we always had onr even- 
ings together, and we were very happy.” 

“ But you speak in the past, my child. Surely 
you do not believe him to be dead?” 

“ Oh, I hope not! Yet how can I tell? Madam,” 
bending forward with an anxious look, and 
speaking almost in a whisper, “ did you ever 
know any of those despised people called Chris- 
tians?” 

Elizabeth started and the blood flushed her 
whole face, then receded to pallor. 

“ Why do you ask?” she said sharply. 

“ Because I sometimes think Herklas has in 
some way been drawn into their hands. It is 
thus Vitellis, his master, hints, though he dare 
not come out boldly and say so. They tell me 
they are very sly and cunning, and that they 
stop at nothing.” 

“ Who tells you so?” asked the woman in a 
muffled voice, bending closer over her work. 


“Oh, the priests— (ind everybody. They say 
they take in Jew or Greek, Cyprian or Athenian, 
Persian or Cappadocian — all is fish that comes to 
their net.” 

A smile stole about the sweet, grave lips of 
Elizabeth. “ And what do they do then, dear 
child, when thus they have become ‘ fishers of 
men ’?” 

“Ah, that is just what I do not know! Un- 
doubtedly they are full of sorceries, and they 
may have changed my poor Herklas into an 
animal and sent him to wander dismally among 
the hills, for aught I know. Think! even should 
I meet him there I would never know him.” 

The other's laugh rang out merrily. “ What 
nonsense! Do you actually believe such things, 
and you nearly a woman grown? Pooh, «pooh, 
my dear! such superstitions are unworthy of 
you.” 

“ But what so queer in that? Was not 
Narcissus turned into a flowering tree? And 
who, indeed, are the nymphs and naiads but 
wood and water clothed in human form? We 
hear of many being punished, or made immortal, 
by such transformations.” 

Elizabeth’s answer was an arch glance and 
the words: “ You give the Christians great 
power, Salome; as great as you ascribe to your 
own gods. Yet they pretend to nothing above 
other human beings, except a clearer idea of the 
Love that is divine.” 

Salome was silenced. She could but feel the 
force of this argument. Either she must give 
up her assumption that the Christians were a 
mean and despicable people, or else the other, 
that they could work such terrible changes as 
even the heathen gods, themselves, upon man. 
But before she could find an answer Elizabeth 
broke out again: 

“ Salome, it is only ignorance that makes 
people look upon us in this light — ” 

“‘Us’?” interrupted the girl with a startled 
look. “What do you mean?” 

“Just what I say, for 1 too am a Christian.” 

She turned a trifle pale as she made the bold 
assertion, and Salome drew back with an ex- 
pression of alarm— indeed, almost horror. She 
had heard such terrible things of this new sect! 
In every oracle received, in every address given 
at the forum, in the private teachings of the 
priests, as well as in their public ministry, she 
had listened repeatedly to warnings of the most 
austere nature leveled against this new worship. 
She had heard the Crucified One alternately 
named as a common criminal making uncommon 
claims, as a sorcerer whose arts could not save 
himself, as a lunatic and fanatic, as a common 
slave Jew, seditious and troublesome— as every- 
thing but the gentle teacher of a God of love. 
Is it any wonder she gazed upon her hostess as 
if she had suddenly turned into a monster? But 
the latter went on quickly, not giving her time 
to voice her astonishment: 

“ It is to Christians you are indebted for your 
escape, last night. Instead of doing harm we 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


9 


are commanded to be kind and loving, even to 
our enemies. This is the first example set 11s by 
Christ, and nobody can be truly one of His unless 
that rule of conduct is carried <yt. Have 1 ill- 
treated you? Did we show you insults, or 
neglect, last night? Yet one and all of us are 
proud to own ourselves followers of Christ.” 

Salome listened with almost breathless sur- 
prise. 

“ It is true!” she acknowledged half inaudibly. 
“ It is all true, but — ” She raised herself upon 
one elbow T and bent her large dark eyes upon the 
fair woman beside her. “ Tell me more!” she 
said with unconscious imperiousness. “ Either 
they have lied to me, or else you are far better 
than your own God. Tell me more!” 

A beautiful smile broke over Elizabeth’s 
flushed face. “ Indeed I should love to!” she an- 
swered heartily. “ I always feel that if one 
really understands our lovely faith, he cannot 
help but embrace it. Yet alas! these are troub- 
lous times and we are few and feeble. Too 
often fear and self-interest tie our tongues when 
we should speak out boldly for the right. I risk 
something in thus talking to you, even, Salome, 
but I am resolved 'to think no more of that— only 
of your soul’s happiness.” 

Then, beginning with Christ’s beautiful life 
and continuing until His marvelous death, she 
told in plain and simple words the story of the 
Cross. Salome lay back on her pillow, but 
scarcely took her eyes from the speaking face 
opposite during the wdiole of the recital. Once 
or twice, she interrupted by a question or two, 
and Elizabeth noticed that these questions were 
shrewd and thoughtful. Not a word w T as lost 
upon her; not a thought came into the mind of 
the relator that did not seem instantly reflected 
in that of the listener. They were in perfect ac- 
cord, except for the overwhelming sense of 
doubt and mystery that shadowed the girl's un- 
derstanding. 

Could it be true? Could the great and majes- 
tic God of all the universe come down to our 
needs, into our homes and our hearts, to work, 
to heal, to suffer, and to die, just for us? 
And all this for what? To teach us the better 
w r ay of living; to make sacrifice and self-surren- 
der divine, and self-seeking and worldly honors 
contemptible; to make us His friends instead of 
servants; to bring heaven to us here upon earth 
if we would but look, listen, and live as He 
taught us! Surely, no god, from great Zeus to 
the weakest Erynne of mischief, ever conceived 
of an idea so tender, and so filled with blessing 
to man. Salome drew a long sigh as Elizabeth 
ceased, then murmured in a faint voice: 

“ It is a marvelous legend, but do you expect 
me to believe it literally?” 

“ Assuredly,” replied the other. “ Am I not 
risking my own safety in telling you? And 
would I do that for a mere senseless tale?” 

Salome lay very still. She was as white as the 
cover of sail-cloth on which she reclined. 
Strange, half-formed ideas, too great for her un- 


developed intellect to grasp so quickly, surged 
through her brain. Elizabeth, glancing at her, 
saw the wistful, darkened eyes and the pallor, 
but only half guessed at the emotion they signi- 
fied. 

“Poor little girl!” she said pitifully. “You 
are harassed and troubled, and One is waiting to 
help. Cast all your care upon Him.” 

Suddenly Salome sat upright. “ My care? It 
is anxiety for my brothers. How can He bear 
that for me?” 

“ Ah, do you not see? If you trusted Him as I 
do, you would not worry. You would know they 
were safe with Him, and that He cares for them 
even more than you do. So whatever came, in 
life or death, you could rest upon that knowledge 
and be at peace.” 

“Oh!” breathed the girl, sinking back once 
more, “ it sounds so restful— if it is true. If only 
I could be certain!” 

She nestled her head lower and closed her 
eyes. She wanted to think in quiet; but Eliza- 
beth, looking at her, believed her wearied and 
reproached herself for talking so much, and 
upon subjects so exciting. So she said softly: 

“ Welb then, rest now. And be sure it is all 
true. When you are stronger we will talk 
again.” Then she left her guest to the sleep or 
musings which she felt sure would follow. 

Salome was a mere child, as yet, in wisdom 
and discretion, even if, by Oriental computa- 
tion, a woman in years. She had been most ten- 
derly cherished, having received a larger share 
of attention and petting than often fell to the 
lot of a girl among the lower classes. She was 
inclined to be petulant and vain, in consequence, 
but her heart was loving and faithful and there 
were capabilities in her nature which might de- 
velop stronger traits with time. 

Just now, lonely, homesick and wounded, she 
longed only for consolation, and Elizabeth’s 
sweet words had fallen upon her soul with ten- 
fold power. Had they come when all was for- 
tunate she might have overlooked them— now 
she clung to every sentence, repeating it again 
and again, longing to make this faith her very 
own. 


CHAPTER IV. 

IMPRISONED. 

W HEN Hector rushed so madly into the 
street he knew well enough that he was 
risking his own safety. It was not for 
any common citizen to disturb the sleepers of 
Philippi, whatever the gay nobles at the Castle 
might do. As he went tearing along after those 
who, he felt sure, had carried his sister off to a 
slavery which, however gilded by wealth, was at 
best horrible and degrading, he did not cease to 
howl out tlireatenings and curses, not only loud 
but deep. Such high-handed deeds had been 
comparatively unknown in this beautiful moun- 


10 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


tain-walled town, except when a temporary 
residence of some of the dissolute Roman court 
brought the practices of that metropolis to its 
quiet streets, and Hector felt all the indigna- 
tion of a man unused to oppression and tyranny. 

For amid the industrious Philippians the 
Games, both Olympic and Isthmian, w T ere held 
in high repute, and a well-trained participant, 
such as Hector, was always treated with re- 
spect. Unlike the Roman gladiators, who were 
almost invariably criminals, or captives, con- 
demned to death, and whipped on to their feats 
of valor by lictors in the pay of the government, 
the contestants in the Greek Games must be 
free-born, unsullied by crime, and of good repu- 
tation in the community. Their only reward 
was supposed to be the golden wreath bestowed 
by the judges, but in reality a successful runner, 
or wrestler, was scarcely ever in want of money. 
Many of the city’s privileges were open to him, 
and the wealthier citizens were proud to make 
him the object of bounteous gifts and favors. 

No wonder he felt himself in some sense 
superior to his neighbors. Thus, amid all Hec- 
tor’s rage to-night, was a strong feeling that, had 
these people known just who he was, they would 
not have dared thus to molest him, and this 
added an extra smart to his fears and doubts. 

He did not cease his raging till he reached the 
very gates of the Castle, where he was promptly 
challenged by the sentinels. 

“ My sister!” cried Hector, the only password 
he could think of then. “ Where is that mad 
party of drunken men? I saw their rich robes 
under the togas— I saw their link-bearers and 
forerunners— I know who they are well enough. 
Let the wretches give me back my sister or—” 

“ Peace!” muttered the outer sentinel, an hon- 
est fellow who did not care to see this venture- 
some young Thracian run his neck into certain 
trouble. “ Peace! You will rouse the garrison, 
and what will they care for you and your sis- 
ter?” 

Even as he spoke came a ringing shout from 
one of the narrow slits of windows in the near- 
est tower. 

“ Arrest that brawler and fling him into 
prison! If that will not stop him, try the stocks 
or the scourge.” 

The tone was authoritative, and before Hec- 
tor could make his escape, even had he tried to 
do so, he was seized by half a dozen soldiers, 
who soon beat him into tractability and dragged 
him down the hill to one of the loathsome dun- 
geons of the prison in the forum, reserved for 
slaves and criminals of lowest rank. These 
dungeons were wet, cold, noisome, and rotting 
underground holes, full of pestilential odors, and 
with no windows except perhaps an inch-wide 
slit in the wall far above the head of the un- 
happy occupant. Here, chained to the moldy 
floor, with no bed, unless by special favor a heap 
of rotting straw, his condition was such as to 
kill all life and hope, if not the intellect, en- 
tirely. 


Hector’s manful resistance to his captors only 
increased his punishment, for finding him so 
lusty a fighter the keeper thought best to double- 
chain him — that is, secure both feet instead of 
one, and have #n extra chain run from foot to 
hand. He had been almost beside himself dur- 
ing his capture, and when his dazed senses re- 
turned he found himself unable to move and in 
utter darkness, a prey to the most anxious 
thoughts— anxious not only for himself, but for 
the sister he so fondly loved. 

But in such a situation there was nothing to do 
but wait upon the will of others with a patience 
born of helplessness, and he lay back immov- 
able and silent, though every heart-throb was a 
groan of wretchedness. 

Meanwhile, a few days later, Salome found 
herself well enough to get about, and, begging 
the company of her hostess, the two sallied forth 
to see what had happened at the little house 
within the wall. It was hard for Salome to keep 
her steps down to a sober pace, so anxious was 
she to be at home again, and though she was 
still weak, and her head sore from the heavy 
bruise, she felt all the exhilaration of a convales- 
cent out once more in the fresh air and sun- 
shine. 

It seemed to her that her adopted city had 
never been so beautiful since she had come to it. 
a tiny child, from the adjoining country of 
Thracia. And indeed there was ground for her 
raptures. Philippi, this chief city of Macedonia, 
seemed endowed with every gift of art and na- 
ture. 

If not actually a seaport, it shared honors with 
Neapolis on the coast, and was scarcely ten 
miles inland, while the approach over a ridge of 
high land and across the wide historic plain, 
crossed and recrossed by numerous runlets of 
clear water, was really beautiful. To the west 
and north loomed the mountains forming the 
border line between Macedonia and Thracia, 
and from their pure snows came the precious 
water in such quantities it had once been called 
the “ Place of Fountains.” It was a garrisoned 
city, and the walls of the fort and castle rose 
massive and white against the south-western 
horizon, while its being a colonia of Rome gave 
it especial privileges, and freedom from most of 
the oppressions naturally expected in a con- 
quered town. 

No wonder that the Philippians loved and hon- 
ored their valley home, nor that its citizens 
throve and grew wealthy, enjoying the security 
thus granted by powerful Rome. 

When the two women reached the little house, 
somewhat aloof from the business portion, 
Salome knocked loud and long at the gate, but 
without response, and finally a neighbor ap- 
peared to say: 

“ The family have all gone away and— why, 
Salome, is that you?” 

‘‘Yes, indeed!” said the girl quickly. “But 
what do you mean? Where is Hector? Where 


TIIE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


11 


is our slave girl, Persis? Has no one been here 
since I left?” 

“ No one except your brother Herklas, and he 
could not gain entrance.” 

“ Herklas? My brother Herklas— the young- 
est— are you sure?” 

“ Certes! My daughter saw him from the 
roof and said he seemed much troubled because 
he could make no one hear.” 

“ When was that?” interposed Elizabeth 
quickly. 

He named the morning, and she felt sure it 
was this lost brother whom Nadab had seen 
when searching for Hector. Should she speak 
about it, or would it only add to the girl’s re- 
grets and sorrows? Salome interrupted her 
musings by asking sharply: 

“But where is he now? Did he leave no 
word ?” 

“ Not with any of my house. I know nothing 
more about him. Tliirza told me he went away 
soon, as if in haste, and has not been seen 
again.” 

“ Strange! And oh, how unfortunate that I 
was not here! I am fated to lose all I love.” 
She caught Elizabeth’s eyes fixed upon her in 
mild rebuke, and added more gently, “ But let 
us hope all will yet come right. Can you tell me 
nothing of Hector, or Persis?”, 

By this time a group of women, many with 
water-jars upon tlieir heads, just as they had 
come from filling them at the public fountains, 
had gathered around the two. One of these 
shook her head and muttered: 

“ I know what the men think, well enough.” 

The remark was not intended for Salome’s 
ears, but she caught it and turned with the quick 
question: 

“ What, then?” 

The woman hesitated; but another, bolder or 
perhaps less tender-hearted, blurted out: 

“They all say he is in prison!” 

“But why— why?” Salome's eyes were wild 
with terror. “ What has my good Hector done? 
You all know his honesty, his high standing. 
Why, he is a twice-crowned Olympionic!” 

Her voice rang with indignation and pride. 

“ We know,” said one sorrowfully, “ but you 
forget some of the Court are here.” 

“ The Court? But what of that? A contest- 
ant is exempt from imprisonment for any cause 
for a month before the Games, and to-morrow 
the month begins.” 

“ What do these Roman patricians care for 
that?” asked one young girl with the dark, 
spirited face of a Syrian Jew. “ Little they stop 
for your sacred games and customs.” 

Salome turned from one to another, her face 
pallid, her mouth drawn into bitter lines. 

She was trembling all over with the dreadful 
sense of outrage and helplessness. 

“How have they dared!” she broke out in a 
deep voice as unlike the petulance of all former 
griefs as her present emotion, entirely for the 
dishonor done to another, was unlike her former 


selfish tears. “ IIow have they dared to im- 
prison my noble brother!” Then, turning 
swiftly towards the house, she added, “Wait! 
There is a locksmith near by whom I know. I 
will have him open this door, and see for my- 
self what is within.” 

She was off on swift feet, for anxiety lent her 
wings and lost her all sense of weakness, and 
the women stood looking after her, their sun- 
browned faces full of consternation and pity. 
Very soon she appeared once more, accom- 
panied by a man whose loose tunic was gathered 
up in a bag-form and thrust beneath his girdle 
to hold a lot of small jingling tools. As soon as 
the door was open Salome rushed inside, fol- 
lowed by the whole group, whose curiosity 
would not be balked by any sense of delicacy. 

Salome, running on ahead, was confronted 
only by the silent rooms, and suddenly her heart 
failed her. She turned back and grasped Eliza- 
beth’s hand, her own cold as ice. “ Come with 
me,” she whispered. “ I am afraid of what 1 
may see. Oh, pray to your Christ to spare me 
now!” 

“ He is with us even here,” whispered the 
Christian woman, her face growing bright with 
inner radiance. “ He knows your grief, dear, 
and will give you strength to bear it.” 

Salome looked at her and caught something of 
her divine faith. She ceased *to tremble, a 
warmer rush of blood set her heart to more 
natural beating, and, stilled to endurance, she 
led her companion forward. 

After all there was nothing to see. It was at 
once apparent that no one had occupied these 
rooms since the strange night of so many hap- 
penings. The table, but half cleared of that late 
supper, was now given over to flies and odors, 
and upon the stone floor of the apartment, where 
Salome had been lying when Hector came in, a 
yellowed rose, which her friend had dropped 
upon her afternoon visit, lay crumbled into dust. 

Could it be she had ever thought herself un- 
happy here? In the shadow of these darker 
griefs those seemed but summer clouds, almost 
transparent to the glory behind. 

As she looked around her she gave a sob and 
turned to Elizabeth, who seemed at that mo- 
ment. her only friend. 

“What shall I do? Where shall I go?” she 
cried bitterly. “ The gods of my fathers have 
abandoned me.” 

“ The blessed Christ, who is yours as well as 
mine, Salome, will never leave us nor forsake 
us. Come to Him, poor tired heart, and come 
with me. Until your brother is found you shall 
share my home.” 

“ But you are not rich,” objected Salome, “ and 
I am a useless girl.” 

“ You need not be. You shall help me with the 
basket- weaving, and we who follow Christ al- 
ways share with each other. Be one of us in 
every way, and you shall not want.” 

They were quite alone by this time, the others 
having fully satisfied their curiosity and re- 


12 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


turned to tlieir neglected tasks. Salome stood in 
thoughtful silence a moment. 

“ Does this mean I must abandon all hope of 
finding my brothers?” she asked. 

“ No, I trust not. My husband, Junius, some- 
times has opportunities to learn who are in the 
prison, though the keeper has no right to tell. 
Let us go to the market-place and see if we can 
find him there.” 

It seemed indeed the only thing to do. With 
quivering lips Salome turned away from the 
deserted place which had once been warm with 
the feeling of love and home, but was now like 
the tomb of hopes departed, and sadly followed 
her guide into the street. The locksmith, who 
had stopped for a chat with one of the men liv- 
ing near, responded to her signal to come and 
fasten up the gate once more, and paying him 
out of the few silver pieces she had in her pos- 
session, the two women at length left the now 
gloomy precinct, to turn into a wider street be- 
yond, leading directly to the forum, or market- 
place. 

Like the more imposing forums of Rome, this 
was built in the shape of a parallelogram, the 
stone wall surrounding it being fashioned into 
massive arches. Within the unroofed space 
were the booths of the market gardeners, the 
shambles of the.butchers and the pretty stalls of 
the flower-and-nerb sellers. Near the center 
was a raised dais for public speakers, often 
occupied by traveling showmen or jugglers, sur- 
rounded by stone benches always plentifully 
filled with loungers and lookers-on. At one end 
was the court of justice, roofed with tent-cloth, 
with a raised divan for the judges’ seats, and be- 
yond it, well walled and with gates of bronze, 
was the prison couT-t, beneath which were the 
dungeons and off from which the keeper’s 
living apartments. At the further end of the 
forum were the religious houses— namely, the 
various temples, the homes of the priests, the 
blocks of sacrifice and the votive offerings. In 
close connection, though outside its many 
arches, were the palaces of the Duumvirs, the 
two mayors of Philippi, who received their 
authority direct from Rome, and were almost 
kingly in their pride and state. 

Thus in this great oblong space centered all 
the civil and religious life of the city, to say 
nothing of its business. Here honest traders 
bought and sold; here dishonest magicians, 
fakirs and sorcerers plied their low arts, and 
sought to draw the idle crowd; here rich brokers 
in purple togas talked of finance, or borrowed 
and lent their money; here poets sang their 
songs, and philosophers told their new systems 
of belief which were to revolutionize the world; 
here beggars displayed their sores; here the 
camel-trains from Damascus halted with their 
rich goods, while the air was filled with spices 
as they rested, and bits of gold stuffs gleamed 
from their wrappings; here were gold-workers 
from Thessaly, silversmiths from Ephesus, and 
dyers from Tliyatira, Among these last there 


was great emulation to see how many shades of 
purple or crimson each could show, without 
trenching upon the sixteen shades reserved for 
royalty, and one who commanded great admira- 
tion for her exquisite tints was, as Elizabeth in- 
formed Salome, a friend of her own, and a 
woman. 

As the two approached this great hive of in- 
dustry to-day they saw it, as usual, teeming with 
a lively crowd of every nationality, while its 
babel of cries, laughter, and loud-voiced gabble 
came to their ears long before they reached its 
first open archway. Just as they entered this a 
large group appeared, surrounding some figure 
off at the right, whose child-like voice, strained 
to an unnatural pitch, was chanting out long 
sentences with the measured cadence of an 
oracle in the temple. These sometimes called 
forth laughter, again sudden silences, thrilled 
with shudders of dread. 

The voice was a girl’s, and pressing closer to 
her companion Salome whispered: 

“ Oh, who is it? I had just a glimpse of her 
through the crowd, and she seems no older than 
I! But she looked so strange! Her eyes were 
glassy and set, and her black hair tossed about 
in wild disorder. Who can she be?” 

“ A poor slave girl,” returned Elizabeth in a 
low voice, hastening her steps. “ Let us not get 
into the crowd. Her masters call her a prophet- 
ess, and say She is possessed by Python, the 
serpent of Apollo; but alas! I fear it is only an 
evil spirit that holds her mind in subjection. 
What brutal-looking men those are who own 
her! I have heard they make several denarii a 
day from her utterances— poor degraded crea- 
ture!” 

Salome turned upon her quickly. “What! 
When she is instructed by the sacred Python? 
Surely you do not understand, Elizabeth.” 

The latter’s sweet lips curled with scorn. 
“ Does your god, Apollo, think it then a noble 
thing to inspire a half-crazed girl to make a 
spectacle of herself, that her brutal masters 
may carouse upon her gains? Surely I would 
worship a purer, higher Deity than that!” 

Salome looked astonished at her expression, 
but had no answer ready for her argument. 
Like most of her sex and rank, she knew little 
of her own mythology, outside the customary 
rites and ceremonies, so she could not reply to 
the higher learning and better sense of this well- 
instructed Christian. 


CHAPTER V. 

MARKET-DAY IN PHILIPPI. 

T HEY hurried to the other side where were 
the buildings devoted to justice, and here 
they timidly stood about for some time, 
hoping to catch a glimpse of Junius, or to see 
some one of whom they could make inquiries as 


TITE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


to liis whereabouts. His wife knew he was not 
apt to be out with liis chain gang of street work- 
ers at this hour, it being near the close of the 
afternoon, but it would not have been seemly for 
these veiled women to address upon the street 
any man who was not a near relative. They for- 
tunately, however, came upon Nadab, who, with 
a beaming face, was minding a fruit stall while 
its owner was off on some errand, and who 
greeted his mother’s well-known figure with a 
boyish shout of pleasure. 

“Ah! mother,” be exclaimed joyously, “you 
see I am selling fruit for iEbulus, and be is to 
give me a penny if I sell anything, and a quad- 
rans if I do not. Do buy some dates for supper!” 

“ Indeed I sliall have to!” laughed his mother, 
pleased at her boy’s pleasure; “and meanwhile 
you run on swift feet and find your father while 
we in turn mind your stall. Do you know where 
he is?” 

“ Yes, indeed! See, he is over there by the 
wine-stall talking with two Romans from the 
Castle. Look! He is just raising the gourd to 
his lips.” 

Elizabeth looked, and a shadow fell upon her 
placid brow. 

“ Go, call him to come to me,” she said gently. 

Nadab nvent on the run, and the two women, 
watching, saw that Junius turned somewhat 
impatiently as the boy caught at his tunic, and 
motioned him away. But Nadab persisted, and 
after listening to him a moment, the father 
at length put down his empty gourd and re- 
luctantly followed him. 

“ Well?” He greeted his wife churlishly, as he 
approached with a stiff and dignified air. 
“ What would you with me?” 

“ Junius,” she returned, dropping her veil a 
trifle that she might smile up into his rugged 
face, “ I would not have disturbed you, but this 
poor damsel has lost all track of her brother, 
and the neighbors think he has been arrested 
and flung into prison. Could you find out for her 
what prisoners are now in the dungeons?” 

He gave a short, hard laugh. “ How little 
women know! The only prisoners I have to do 
with are those of the chain gang. I am not a 
jailer, but a keeper of the streets.” 

“ I know.” Elizabeth’s voice was quite un- 
ruffled. “ Yet you are such friends with all 
these men in power, that I felt sure you would 
have some way of finding out this matter, if you 
chose.” 

The implied compliment pleased the man. 
Nothing so delights a petty tyrant as to feel that 
his women-folk think him of great influence in 
the community. 

“ Oh, I could, to be sure,” he returned pom- 
pously, “ only you know how it is with prisoners 
of the lower ranks— they are put down deep!” 
chuckling amusedly. “ Most likely, though, 
they will have him in my gang before long.” 

Salome shuddered visibly. She recalled the 
miserable wretches she had sometimes seen 
whipped along to their tasks and nearly doubled 


13 

under their heavy chains. Could her bright, 
brave Hector ever come to that! 

Junius noticed the movement. “And glad he 
will be to exchange his cell for the free air, even 
in that way,” he proceeded oracularly, without 
one touch of feeling. “ You know not what 
those pits are, you women!” 

“ But my brother has done no wrong,” spoke 
up Salome from behind her veil. “ Besides, how 
can he be in order for the Games if he is left to 
grow weak and flabby of muscle in prison? And 
to-morrow begins the month of exemption.” 

This was quite a masterly stroke of the girl’s. 
Junius cast an approving glance in her direc- 
tion. Certainly, contestants must be looked 
after better than this. Every citizen had an in- 
terest in an Olympionic and should see that his 
rights were not interfered with, nor (what was 
more to the purpose in the mind of Junius) his 
strength weakened. So the man nodded his 
head once or twice with grave complacency. 

“Very true,” he said, “most correct! I will 
see what can be done. And now you would botli 
better go home out of this crowded place. It is 
not just the spot for modest women.” 

Salome felt indignant and longed to reply, but 
left that for Elizabeth, who simply murmured, 
“Thank you!” in her soft voice, and drew the 
girl along beside her at a rapid pace. When they 
were well outside the forum, and still speechless 
with engrossing thoughts, the matron suddenly 
asked in a low voice: 

“ Salome, can I fully trust you? Y r ou would 
not do anything to harm one who is doing her 
best to be kind to you?” 

“Certainly not, Elizabeth! Why do you ask 
such a question?” 

“ Because I would like to take you to a place 
I think might be blessed to you. But you must 
promise you will go as a friend, never as a spy 
and informer.” 

“ I promise,” said the girl readily enough, for 
she felt certain this meant being admitted to a 
religious gathering, and she was longing to hear 
more of these ideas which seemed to her so mar- 
velous. “ Where is it you would take me?” 

“ Come and see,” said the other, with a smile 
so full of happiness that it shone even through 
her veil; and she hurried on with footsteps so 
rapid that it was difficult for the semi-invalid to 
keep up with her. 

They quickly passed from the clamor of the 
more public streets to a long and quiet thorough- 
fare leading to one of the city gates, and, pass- 
ing through this to the plain beyond the wall, 
they turned to the left, and soon came to a shady 
grove on the* banks of one of the many small 
streams abounding there. Close by the bank was 
a light structure, roofed only with tent-cloth, 
about which clustered a few people, principally 
women, whose manners were too quiet to sug- 
gest that they came for amusement. In fact, 
the pavilion was a Jewish synagogue, and the 
usual market-day congregation had gathered for 
the second service of the day. This consisted 


14 


THE WRESTLER 'OF PHILIPPI. 


largely of women of the lower class, and as the 
services had not begun they were at present 
somewhat excitedly discussing an expected 
event, which had just been announced to them. 
They pressed forward to greet Elizabeth, who 
seemed a favorite, and upon her presenting 
Salome as a friend and guest, she too was wel- 
comed in kindly fashion. Then one said eagerly: 

“ Have you heard the news, Elizabeth? Two 
Apostles of Christ are to visit us— the great Paul 
and his companion, Silas. Even now they may 
be landing at Neapolis, and some of our com- 
pany have gone there to meet and welcome 
them.” 

The speaker wore the picturesque dress of a 
Jewess of means, and was evidently a woman 
of importance in the assembly. She added: 

“ Now we shall hear more of this new Gospel 
which has brought peace and joy to so many. 
What say you, Elizabeth? They tell me you, 
too, have found joy in these teachings.” 

The young woman smiled. “ I was in Jerusa- 
lem when Stephen died,” she answered in a 
voice of joyous emotion. “ I was also at the 
Pentecost after the death and resurrection of 
our Christ.” 

The other looked at her thoughtfully. “I 
have heard of that wonderful Pentecostal day, 
but I do not know about Stephen, except that he 
is talked of as the first Christian martyr. One 
thing is certain, though— those people do know 
how to die.” 

“ And I hope how to live, too,” smiled Eliza- 
beth. 

“ If they were all like you!” returned the 
woman affectionately. “ But have I not heard 
that this very Paul, your greatest Apostle, was 
one who helped put Stephen to death?” 

“ He did,” said Elizabeth, “ but in ignorance. 
He was Saul of Tarsus, then, a devout Pharisee, 
and he felt it right to hate the very name of the 
Lord Jesus.” 

“ Yet now he is the friend of that crucified 
man, and the teacher of his doctrines!— what a 
turn-coat!” 

The woman smiled ironically, but Elizabeth 
gently answered: 

“ He has learned to know Jesus as the Christ, 
and his sole desire now is to prove how sincere 
is his love of Him.” 

“ Well, we have had many prophets,” mused 
the other, “ but only one God.” 

“ Yet we were all looking for the Messiah,” 
put in Elizabeth quickly. 

“ Yes, he is long delayed.” The well-to-do 
woman smoothed down her rich-hued robe com- 
placently. She too was a Pharisee, and there- 
fore not easily set right. There was a stir and 
the group began turning toward the synagogue. 
“ Come,” she said, “ the services are begin- 
ning.” 

They gathered about the reader, who, as usual, 
was seated before them, and listened while he 
explained a portion of the Scriptures. He was a 
Jewish rabbi, and this was the regular service of 


that church, which Elizabeth still attended with 
reverence, though she felt they had not yet at- 
tained unto the higher life, as taught by Christ. 
Yet she longed to have Salome imbibe the idea 
of one sovereign and spiritual God, all-powerful, 
all-loving, and with no lesser deities surrounding 
Him. This once thoroughly understood, the new 
Gospel would soon make its blessings felt in her 
young heart. The Christians at Philippi were 
still few and feeble and had no place of meet- 
ing except in private houses, and most of them, 
if Jews, still worshiped, on stated occasions, 
with the mother church. Nor did they, as Eliza- 
beth knew when she took Salome with her, like 
to have their pagan neighbors present at the 
services. The presence of a worshiper of Apollo 
would make them “ unclean,” according to their 
rabbinical doctrines, and might do them 
harm in other ways. Elizabeth, in her emanci- 
pated common sense, knew the heathen girl 
could not harm them, unless by tale-bearing, and 
would doubtless receive good, so she took the 
bold step of bringing her upon her own au- 
thority. 

Salome was greatly interested in it all. She 
thought the ceremonial extremely simple, and 
wondered that there was no oracle, no proces- 
sion of priests, no offerings, no prostration of 
the worshipers. When they came away she 
was silent and thoughtful. It seemed to her 
that life meant more than it had before. There 
were deeper things to think of than the buying 
of a new tunic, the watching of a heathen game, 
or even the loss of a special amulet. 

Then she remembered that, but for that loss, 
she might still be with Hector, free from care 
and happy — but was she happy? Even before 
the sad breaking-up of their home — yes, even be- 
fore Herklas went away— had she not been often 
discontented, dissatisfied, and ill at ease? 

They were turning into the little court now, 
and she looked around at Elizabeth, who had 
dropped her veil for a breath of the sweet air be- 
fore entering the house. How untroubled she 
was! Again Salome had the feeling that she 
hugged to her bosom some secret consciousness 
of joy, but now she knew what it was. Not an 
oracle of future good fortune, just as she had 
thought it out, but an assurance of peace in this 
world, and in that to come life everlasting. 

As they reached the house door she stopped 
and said timidly: 

“ Elizabeth?” 

“ Yes, my child.” 

“ Do you ever pray in secret to your Christ?” 

“ Often, child.” 

“ Then next time ask him something for me, 
please. Ask him to give me your kind of joy. 
Will you?” 

Elizabeth suddenly bent and kissed her, her 
eyes wet with a grateful rush of tears. “ Will 
I? My dear, I have been praying ever since you 
came to me, and He is already letting me know 
that He has heard. Listen, Salome!” She 
stopped in the doorway and laid her hand upon 


15 


THE WRESTLER OF PIIILIPPI. 


the girl’s shoulder, while she looked down into 
her eyes. “ Listen: ‘ As the Father hath loved 
me, so have I loved you. If ye keep my com- 
mandments ye shall abide in my love; even as I 
have kept my Father’s commandments and 
abide in his love. These things have I spoken 
unto you that my joy might remain in you, and 
that your joy might be full.’ ” 

“Oh, who said those beautiful words?” 
breathed the girl in an agitated whisper. 

“ Our Christ— yours and mine, Salome! He is 
the Source of our joy, our hope, our love.” 

“ Ah! if only He will be mine!” the girl cried 
wistfully, and passing quickly indoors, shut her- 
self away in her bit of a room, to try and under- 
stand this splendor of hope and resolve which 
now thrilled her to the utmost. 


CHAPTER VI. 

LYDIA’S VISIT. 

I T transpired that the woman who had talked 
with Elizabeth at the meeting was the one 
whom she had mentioned as a successful 
dyer, with a good business of her own. She had 
formerly lived at Tliyatira, where she belonged 
to the ancient guild of dyers, but her business 
had grown until she felt it best to come to the 
larger town of Philippi. 

She had a comfortable home, and her employes 
were mostly slaves, quartered upon her own 
premises. She had made a specialty of dyeing in 
purple, having succeeded in producing some new 
tints that were much admired, and was a thor- 
oughly successful woman. But she had her 
griefs and troubles, and she never ceased to 
mourn the loss of a husband who had been very 
dear to her. Her reputation for good works was 
of the best, but she was slightly exclusive in her 
friendships, and, some thought, felt her conse- 
quence more than was agreeable. Elizabeth 
was not of those who said so. Between her and 
the good woman was a strong attachment, and 
she knew that often a certain air of hauteur in 
Lydia was simply a shutting of herself away 
in closer communion with her own heart. 
Elizabeth loved and respected her, and the sad, 
successful woman often sought the joyful, un- 
successful one to pour out her griefs and trou- 
bles, and to receive of that sweet faith and 
peace which made the other so blessed. What 
Elizabeth had said of Stephen— or more properly 
the tone in which she had said it— stayed by 
Lydia all that evening, and made her resolve 
that she would try to hear the new Apostles, who 
were soon coming. Being a Pharisee of the 
strictest sect, she found it difficult to believe that 
any Messiah could be other than a great King 
and Deliverer, who would restore Jerusalem, 
and make the Jewish nation once more a power 
among men. 

In all these respects Jesus of Nazareth had 


seemed to fail. Yet, when Lydia’s sweet-faced 
friend talked to her of His greater mission to 
elevate and save all men, be they of whatever 
nation, and to establish a kingdom “ not made 
with hands,” certainly, yet “ eternal in the 
heavens,” it appealed to something high and 
pure in her own nature, though it could not quite 
bring her into full accord with Him. Another 
thing— this new worship was not popular, and it 
must be confessed she shrank from it on that ac- 
count. In fact, though it appealed to her better 
feelings, it had not yet so taken hold upon her 
that she must acknowledge it whatever the 
consequences. 

She felt restless the next day, however, and 
suddenly resolved to go to Elizabeth and ask 
her to relate the story of Stephen’s death, and 
explain why it had affected her so deeply. So 
she left her shop in the care of a trusted over- 
seer, took a last look at her bubbling vats, each 
stirred continuously by a nearly naked slave, 
then started to cross the forum toward the same 
gate at which our two friends had entered the 
day before. It was not so crowded now, this 
not being a regular market-day, but within 
the gate was quite a concourse of people around 
a young girl, who seemed chanting something 
in imitation of the oracles in the temple, while 
her evil-looking companions greedily gathered 
up the mites and quadrans that were thrown 
into their uplifted tunics by the astonished lis- 
teners to whom she had promised some excep- 
tional fortune. 

Presently, as Lydia lingered, curiously watch- 
ing the proceedings, she saw, crossing the forum, 
two men whose dress showed them to be travel- 
ing Jews. They carried themselves with a cer- 
tain free dignity which at once attracted the 
noble woman, and she observed upon their en- 
kindled countenances that same serenity which 
had always attracted her in Elizabeth. The 
older of the two men held her gaze longest. He 
w r as not tall, though his dignified presence made 
him seem so, but his brow was broad and clear, 
and the eyes below were keen, bright, searching, 
and above all kindly. As they turned casually 
upon her for an instant, they seemed to flash 
new life and hope into her heart. 

“Who can they be?” thought she, and almost 
with the question came its answer: “They 
must be the expected Apostles!” Still more 
eagerly, then, she watched them. As they ap- 
proached the slave girl she, too, stopped her 
chanting and turned towards them. Her eyes 
were set in the glassy stare of a sleep-walker, 

• and her hands were clinched nervously at her 
sides. She stood quite still, the people about 
watching her intently, while the two strangers 
passed by in such earnest conversation that they 
did not seem to notice the excitement in the 
least. All at once her face flushed warmly, and 
a new light came into her eyes. Wheeling 
quickly, she followed after and began to cry 
aloud, but not in her high-pitched sing-song— 
rather in the sincere accent of assured belief; 


16 


THE WRESTLES OF PHILIPPI. 


“ Those men are the servants of the Most High 
God, who show unto us the way of salvation.” 

The words thrilled Lydia. How did this pagan 
know, if indeed she spoke the truth? Who had 
revealed it to a poor demented girl, ignorant of 
great religious truths as she must be? No won- 
der everyone looked after her with astonish- 
ment, and followed to see what she would do, 
or say, next. But the men whom she had thus 
« designated kept upon their way, taking little 
note of the matter, apparently. Lydia, debating 
all this in her mind, started on at a rapid gait, 
which brought her abreast of the girl’s two mas- 
ters, who had so suddenly found their occupa- 
tion gone. They were scowling fiercely after the 
girl, yet seemed held back by some impulse 
stronger than their greed of gain. They did not 
beg of these she had so strangely singled out; 
they rather slunk back as if to avoid them, 
though evidently all their evil passions were 
roused at having their dupes so summarily dis- 
persed by this singular interruption. Lydia 
threw them but a glance, then hurried out and 
up the street, to her friend’s. 

She found the Christian woman sitting in the 
shade in her little court, busy with her weaving. 
She greeted Lydia with cordiality, calling her to 
a seat on the mat at her side, and presently 
Salome appeared from an inner room, carrying 
another bundle of damp osiers for which she 
had just been sent, and with which she joined 
the two. Lydia began by relating the incident 
of the morning, which Salome heard with eyes 
grown large and wondering. 

“Surely,” she remarked, “ it must be true if 
the soothsayer has declared it.” 

Elizabeth laughed in her sensible fashion. 
“ It is true,” she said, “ but not because this pos- 
sessed girl says it. No doubt, though, even the 
evil spirits recognize God’s elect— but who could 
fail to note that these men are better and higher 
than most? I, too, saw them this morning, 
Lydia, when I was at the market. Does not the 
love of Christ shine from their souls through 
their faces? They reminded me of Stephen,” 
she added softly. 

“ Stephen? He is the very one I came to ask 
about. You mentioned him so reverently the 
other day that I long to hear all about him. Was 
he not stoned because of this new faith?” 

Elizabeth nodded, then said in a far-away 
tone: “ I was young, but I have never forgot- 
ten it. Such eloquence, such sweetness, one 
can hope to hear but once! That day I was with 
my father in the market-place when some ex- 
cited men of his acquaintance came along and 
touched his shoulder, saying, ‘ Come, quick, to 
the council chamber! They have arrested a 
man of Christ and are going to try him for blas- 
phemy.’ 

“ Now, my mother had been greatly inter- 
ested in the new doctrines, and was anxious to 
hear and see all she could of the followers of 
Christ. This, however, my father had opposed 
up to that time, and as she was obedient and 


true, she had said little, while perhaps thinking 
the more. So, this day, father laughed lightly 
as the men called him, saying, ‘ What! Has an- 
other king of the Jews arisen?’ and started after 
them, entirely forgetting me. But, child-fashion, 
I followed close at his heels. We pressed as 
near as possible to the judges’ seats, where the 
Sanhedrim was convened, and my father, sud- 
denly perceiving me, began to chide me for fol- 
lowing; but when I begged and cried, saying I 
was afraid to go back through the crowd alone, 
he laughed good-naturedly, and bade me be 
quiet then, kindly lifting me to a jutting bit of 
stonework close by the steps, that I might see 
better. 

“ There was a man standing in the prisoner’s 
place, talking, and young as I was, I listened to 
every word, for I thought I had never heard the 
story of our nation told so plainly and so well, 
even by my mother’s tender lips. Besides, the 
man’s voice and presence were full of power and 
spirit. His eyes kindled with enthusiasm, his 
lips grew sweet with love and pity, and though 
he said some severe words to the scowling rab- 
bis, glowering upon him, his own countenance 
was so lighted by love to the Christ that it shone 
like the face of an angel. 

“ As he closed with words that accused the 
priests of killing the prophets and rejecting 
God’s Holy Spirit, they grew so angry that they 
gnashed their teeth and snarled at him like a 
pack of unclean dogs; yet still he stood there in 
perfect peace, calm, smiling, serene as a mes- 
senger from heaven. 

“ I remember how my father’s arm gripped me 
as he held me on the stone balustrade, and how 
his face worked with admiration and doubt. 
For my father was a strict Pharisee and had 
come here in perfect sympathy with the San- 
hedrim, yet he could not listen to these words, 
spoken with such serene conviction and heav- 
enly wisdom, without being impressed. Even 1, 
a child, felt tears rolling down my cheeks, and 
I longed to cry out to the angry Doctors of the 
Law to wait and listen, for there could be no 
wrong in this man. 

“ Even at that moment, while the tumult 
about him was loudest, I saw him raise his eyes 
heavenward, where the canvas roof was rolled 
back, and fix his gaze on the deep blue sky. A 
great and glorious light came into his face, he 
reached up his right hand, and cried in a voice 
that thrilled me through and through: 

‘‘‘Behold! I see the heavens opened, and 
Jesus standing on the right hand of God.’ 

“ Instinctively I, too, gazed up, as did all that 
multitude who had been gathering through the 
long discourse, and it has always seemed to me 
that through the deep, clear blue I also could 
faintly see forms of light and whiteness floating 
in glory. But who can tell? The imaginings of 
the young are great, and surely such a wondrous 
vision would not be granted to a simple child 
like me. 

“ Certainly those rabbis saw nothing, for in 


THE WEES TIE R OF PHILIPPI 


their anger they began a tumult so outrageous 
that I stopped my ears, and cowered close to my 
father in terror. And then — oh! then I saw them 
fall upon the speaker, fairly struggling with 
each other in their haste to seize him and drag 
him away. He made no resistance, nor an- 


could go. It was to the place of execution in the 
ravine of Joshaphat, just without tlie gates, 
that they hustled him by a short way back of the 
Temple, and we had to take a longer way 
around. All the crowd went with us. Some 
cried, ‘Stone the blasphemer— stone him!’ and 





others urged, ‘Wait! wait! Let him have a 
word for himself. He has done nothing worthy 
of death!’ And among the latter I was glad to 
hear my father’s lusty voice, for my whole 
child’s heart had gone out to this ‘ just man,’ as 
father rightly named him. 


■ - 


“Who can they be?” thought she; and almost with the question came the answer, 
“They must be the expected Apostles.”— See page 15. 


swered a word to their curses and imprecations, 
but as they surged by us I peeped out from be- 
hind my father and caught one more glimpse of 
his face — pale, still, and peaceful, not at all as if 
he were in the grasp of a furious mob bent on 
his destruction. 

“ Then father caught me up in his arms, mut- 
tering, ‘What are they going to do? Will they 
kill that just man?’ and ran after as fast as he 


“ When we reached the ravine we saw they 
had already thrown him from the wall, as was 
the custom when a man was condemned to be 
stoned to death. But the fall had not mercifully 
killed him, as it sometimes did; and already the 
fiercest of his accusers were throwing off their 
abbas, and piling them in a heap at the feet of a 
young man whom I scarcely noticed then, I was 
so intent on the martyr; but now I know it was 


18 


THE WRESTLER OF PIIILIPPl 


—who do you think, Lydia? The very Paul you 
and I saw this morning.” 

“ All!” cried the other. “ It is passing strange. 
But go on— they threw off their upper garments, 
you say—” 

“ Yes. His adverse witnesses, you understand, 
for they were privileged to cast the lirst stone. 
Each sought out the largest he could find— oh! 
friends, one bore a red stain already, as if it had 
been an instrument of death in that dreadful 
place before— and though I shrank and hid my 
eyes, I had to look again, and then my gaze 
seemed riveted upon that man in the midst, 
fallen, bruised, torn, and despised, yet who still 
bore in his face the look of a conqueror. 

“ For even as I gazed he feebly raised himself 
to his knees and fixed his eyes upon the sky 
above, which was not more peaceful than his 
own expression then. I thought he had forgot- 
ten us all and had thoughts only for the Holy 
One he loved and was dying for, but that was 
all I knew. Because he did love the blessed 
Christ he must have had thoughts for all of us. 
One cry he gave for his own soul, 4 Lord Jesus, 
receive my spirit!’ then, as the stones began to 
hail about and upon him, he looked with love 
even upon his tormentors, and cried aloud in a 
voice so sweet that it thrills me yet: 

44 4 Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.’ 

44 Oh, the wonder of it! the wonder of it, Lydia! 
He could forgive those murderers in his dying 
agony! I had heard that this was true of Christ 
and had felt that He was God, or He could 
not have done it. Now I saw that for love 
of Him a poor weak man might die like Him- 
self. 

44 As the words ended, a great stone crashed 
against Stephen’s breast, and he sank gently 
back and seemed to fall asleep, with a smile 
like that of a child in its mother’s arms. And as 
we looked on, almost wistfully, at one who had 
overcome death with faith, a man close by whis- 
pered solemnly, 4 He sleeps in Jesus.’ 

44 1 did not fully understand his meaning, but 
my father reverently bowed his head in prayer, 
and I did likewise. 

44 Even those fierce rabbis grew still, and 
moved away in sullen self-disgust. Then father 
turned to the whisperer and asked hoarsely, 
4 Who was this man?’ 4 Stephen,’ answered the 
other, lingering on the syllables as if he loved 
them. Father gazed at him. 4 The word means 
a crown,’ he said in a reverent tone. 4 Yes,’ was 
the reply. 4 His is the martyr’s crown, most 
glorious of all.’ And father nodded, consent- 
ingly. 

44 Still holding me close, father then turned 
homeward in silence, and when there told my 
mother all, while great tears ran down his rough 
brown cheeks. Ah! how I loved him then! Noth- 
ing makes a father so dear to a child as the dis- 
play of deep and pure emotion. I could not let 
go his hand, and, taking my mother’s also, he 
said earnestly, 4 1 can no longer doubt that Jesus 
of Nazareth was the promised Deliverer.’ So 


the day of Stephen’s glorious death was the be- 
ginning of our new life.” 

She stopped, half choked with emotion, while 
both Salome’s and Lydia’s tears flowed freely. 
The woman was thinking, 44 If these things be 
so, is not this Jesus indeed the Messiah?” while 
the pagan girl mused: 

44 Our gods do not make their followers like 
this. Our Stoics may die lightly, with a smile 
upon their lips, but it is a bitter smile, and their 
last words are revilings for their enemies. 
Surely this is the strangest of all religions, yet 
the most beautiful, too. And I have feared 
Herklas was drawn away by the Christians! 
Now I could almost wish he had been!” 


CHAPTER VII. 

LIGHT IN THE DUNGEON. 

A DAY or two later was the Sabbath, and 
Salome, whose interest was thoroughly 
aroused, gladly accompanied her hostess 
to the river-side synagogue, hoping to hear and 
see something more of this new faith. Nor was 
she disappointed. Paul and Silas were both 
there, and, being courteously treated, sat among 
the rabbis, and were requested to address the 
assembly. This was a small one, mostly women, 
and they heard the good message which was 
presented with eloquence and power, as a call 
from God to 44 come up higher.” 

Elizabeth, strengthened and confirmed in 
faith, listened with a shining countenance; 
Salome with eager, wide-open eyes, wondering, 
hoping, yet still half doubting because it seemed 
too good to believe; and Lydia with powerful 
conviction and trust. But the Greek girl was 
almost as glad as Elizabeth, herself, to see this 
proud, yet sincere, woman rise modestly in her 
place to profess belief in this beautiful doctrine, 
and to ask baptism for herself and household. 
The little congregation had partly dispersed, 
afterwards, when Lydia came towards them, 
her head bowed in thoughtful humility. Eliza- 
beth stepped quickly to her side, saying in a glad 
voice: 

44 Dear sister Lydia, welcome! I am so glad— 
so glad!” 

Lydia took her hand and pressed it. Her eyes 
were moist with tears and her lips tremulous. 

44 Not so glad as I!” she whispered back. 44 No- 
body can tell the peace and joy I feel.” 

44 Will you not come home with us and talk 
more of this?” asked Elizabeth, much moved. 

44 1 would, but I am waiting for these good 
men. They have promised to honor me by lodg- 
ing at my house while they remain here. I will 
see you soon, however.” 

She left them, but, lingering to watch her, they 
soon saw her start towards her pleasant home 
with the two Apostles, and Elizabeth turned to 
Salome with the words: 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. IQ 


“ I am glad they will be so comfortably 
housed. They looked weary this morning, and 
indeed their lives are very often hard and 
fatiguing.” 

“ Have they ever suffered persecution?” asked 
the girl. 

“ Oh, many and many a time. Paul has been 
even stoned, like Stephen, and left for dead, 
though in fact he was only senseless for a while; 
and from many places they have had to flee be- 
cause of their persecutors.” 

“ Yet they never think of giving it all up and 
settling down to a quiet life?” 

Elizabeth looked at her with a singular ex- 
pression. “ You do not understand,” she said. 
“ When your heart has opened to the truth you 
will not ask such a question.” 

“ But does your God command these things, 
Elizabeth? We believe our gods like us to en- 
joy, and escape hardships if possible. All they 
ask of us is to give them due honor and listen to 
the oracles.” 

“ Then why do hardships come?” asked the 
older woman quickly. “ Are not your gods 
powerful enough to make you happy, if that is 
their desire for you?” 

Salome hesitated for an answer, and Elizabeth 
continued rapidly: 

“ Our Creator does mean us to be happy, 
and Christ came to show us the right way. But, 
my child, happiross is a state of mind, not a pos- 
session. One who truly loves God is happy any- 
where if feeling His presence. It is only 
alienation from Him that is wretchedness.” 

“ But, dear friend, could you be happy, say, in 
prison— in those dreadful dungeons that your 
husband tells us of, where there is no light, and 
scarcely any air?” 

“ If Christ were with me — yes.” 

“Ah, that is too much to believe!” cried the 
girl emphatically. “ They are such horrible 
places — and there are the tortures too! If you 
had to suffer those?” 

“I cannot tell,” shuddering a little. “My 
flesh creeps to think of such things, but the 
Christ will not let me be tried beyond my 
strength. I rest on that assurance, and do not 
worry. The one thing I could not do would be 
to deny Him!” 

Salome glanced at her. They had just entered 
the home court and Elizabeth had dropped her 
veil. Upon her serene face was a joyous smile 
of confidence, and in her eyes, now gazing 
heavenwards, an expression of perfect peace. 

Salome’s young heart went out towards her in 
affectionate appeal. She wished, whimsically, 
that there were some way of absorbing from her 
a little of that lovely personality which made 
her so winning and so enjoyable to herself. The 
girl put out her hand and touched the other’s 
long robe. 

“ Dear Elizabeth,” she said wistfully, “ I wish 
I were like you!” 

“ Nay. Salome,” answered the other, clasping 
the hand warmly, “ rather wish you were like 


Christ. He is the One ‘ altogether lovely,’ and 



Meanwhile, poor Hector was learning more of 
the dungeons that haunted his sister’s mind, 
than she could even imagine of them. So dark 
was the pit in which he lay that he could 
scarcely distinguish the bare walls around him, 
and the only alleviation of his fate was the 
healthy power to sleep long and often. Then, 
for a time, he forgot his sufferings, and again 
wrestled in the arena, strolled outside the gates 
by the pretty brook-sides with Herklas and 
galome, or romped through some game in the 
court, a little boy again. 

When the soldiers delivered him over to the 
keeper of the prison he had made one more 
effort to defend himself, though not with fists 
this time. But before he could tell who he was, 
and how guiltless of offence, a sudden blow from 
the knotted scourge had silenced him. 

“Hold your peace, fellow!” cried the keeper 
shortly, as he turned with an imprecation. “ It 
is nothing to me whether you are guilty or not. 
On with you there!” and he drove Hector before 
him with the relentlessness of fate. The latter 
saw it was of no use to remonstrate, but his 
whole soul rose up in rebellion against such un- 
deserved treatment, and he could have cursed 
all the gods in turn when the surly keeper left 
him chained to the moldy stone floor of his fetid 
cell. 

Hector was brave in his own way, and in the 
arena dared to stand up in the wrestling 
matches with any one who might be pitted 
against him. But his strength was physical, not 
moral, and he had no religion, no philosophy 
even, to sustain him now. For a time he howled 
with rage and despair, beating his head against 
the cruel stones until its dull ache but added to 
his misery, and. sent him into a sort of stupor, 
which was but the sullen quietude born of 
despair. He had no way of counting time ex- 
cept by the intervals between his wretched 
meals. When this interval was doubled he knew 
it must be night, when halved it must be day, 
and he thus managed to keep a tolerably correct 
idea of the flight of time. 

In this manner he calculated that the sixth 
night had arrived, and was feeling indignant 
that precious sleep did not, as usual, come with 
it, when a sound unlike any he had heard here 
before fell upon his ears. He had been several 
times aroused by the clanking of heavy chains 
outside his door, or by loud voices in strife or 
ribaldry, and he had twice been sickened by 
the shrieks of those under torture. But this was 
none of these. 

It was the voice of music, peaceful, joyous, 
and swelling from the deep throats of men who 
sang with all the heart in an absorption of enjoy- 
ment. He raised himself upon his elbow and 
listened breathlessly. This could not be the song 
of those too far gone in liquor to care for their 
surroundings! No, these steady, sustained 


TIIE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


20 

cadences meant controlled joy, triumphant wor- 
ship. Astonished, cheered, and longing to hear 
more, l^wept to the thick door and placed his 
ear close against its smooth surface. 

The singing came, evidently, from the next 
cell, where he had become convinced were kept 
the stocks and other instruments of torture. 
Could these men be in those fiendish wooden 
things which held the limbs distended and the 
head and neck contracted, until every muscle 
was like a tortured nerve with its agony? It 
seemed incredible! So men might burst out into 
swelling strains on a triumphal march after 
some great victory. But what could prisoners 
in such a hole know of victory? 

He soon assured himself that they w T ere in the 
stocks, however, which were placed almost 
against his door, and presently the singing- 
ceased, and he heard a voice speaking in the 
Greek tongue* with which he was so familiar. 
Straining his attention, he caught words of 
praise and devotion mingled with supplication, 
all seemingly addressed to one great God who 
was powerful over all others. 

“How they believe in Him!” was Hector’s 
thought, as he held his breath to hear. “ How 
certain they seem of His presence and care! 
When I call upon great Zeus, or Apollo, they are 
so far away my cry seems lost in air; but these 
men appear to think their God is present with 
them in this very prison.” 

Presently the tones sank to lower murmurs, in 
which he could distinguish no words. Disap- 
pointed at hearing no more, and wearied -with 
confinement and grief, he finally sank into a 
deep sleep just where he was, his head against 
the heavy door. 

How long he had slept he did not know, but he 
awoke instantly and completely, with the knowl- 
edge that the door had given way, letting him 
fall outward into the other cell, which was 
heaving, trembling, rocking, and cracking 
around him. Terrified, he raised himself amid 
the falling stones and mortar, to find, with 
amazement, that he was freed from his shackles, 
and to see, in a sudden glare of lightning, that 
the doors were all wide open, even that into the 
outer court, while the stars, half concealed by 
turbulent clouds, were shining in. 

All around were other prisoners, their eyes 
wild with affright, for the building was rocking 
to its foundations, and the rending walls gave 
out sharp sounds with horrible meaning. All 
were indeed too paralyzed to move for an in- 
stant, during which the keeper, who had been 
asleep, suddenly appeared in the outer door, and 
at one glance saw that his captives were all at 
liberty. With a cry of fright and despair he 
dreVv his sword, not for defense or punishment, 
but for self-destruction. This was tlie universal 
resort of the desperate. The lack of all justice 
among those in power led such philosophers 
as Seneca, such generals as Brutus and Cassius, 
to prefer what they believed the oblivion of 
death to the debasements of tyranny. 


But something stayed this man’s rash hand, 
and also held back the lawless prisoners, who 
might easily have fled — held even Hector, who 
felt himself so unjustly imprisoned here. A 
voice cried loudly through the gloom: 

“ Do thyself no harm, for we are all here!” 

Calling loudly for assistance, the keeper soon 
had re-inforcements and light, though he did not 
seem to have needed them. All were present, 
and the two men still sat in the stocks, though 
the heavy beams had split apart from the great 
screws and left them at perfect liberty. The 
keeper, shaking with excitement and terror, now 
threw himself before these strange prisoners 
and cried in anguish, “ What must I do t.o be 
saved?” He felt that here was some Power be- 
fore which his petty tyranny was impotent, and 
if the cry was selfish it was certainly sincere. 

He had always bowed before his masters, and 
exacted every concession from those over whom 
he ruled. Yet here were two, who had meekly 
submitted themselves to his scourgings and tor- 
tures since early yesterday, whose power was 
evidently beyond that of most men. It must 
then be from some Being who could control 
earthquakes to His own purposes. It must be 
from God! 

He was ready to acknowledge His power and 
to worship at His feet. He could fear and re- 
spect Him now; perhaps later he would learn to 
love Him. In all events he w£s anxious to be- 
come His follower without delay. 

One of the men answered with prompt de<- 
cision: 

“ Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
slialt be saved.” 

Hector listened in astonishment. He could not 
yet quite understand what had kept him from 
rushing outside to certain freedom in that one 
moment when all was open and unguarded. 
But. strangely enough, he had not cared to go; 
all thought of safety seemed merged into a de- . 
sire to see and hear more of these wonderful 
men, whom even chains, stocks, and prison 
doors could not affect in body, or in spirit! 

He listened breathlessly to the talk that now 
followed. First one, then the other, in an emu- 
lation of eagerness, told of a love, a hope, a joy, 
so great that no prison walls could damp them. 
The time fled swutly. All the prisoners were 
gathered close about the two, and their un- 
kempt, haggard faces softened into wistfulness 
as they listened. As for the keeper, his manner 
was transformed. Consideration and sympa- 
thy took the place of cold indifference and sullen 
cruelty. He said presently in a voice subdued to 
gentlqness, “ Come with me, please,” then turn- 
ing his eyes from one to another of the remain- 
ing prisoners, he called to Hector, “ Here, boy, I 
need your help.” 

Hector went at once. 

“ I want you to help me care for these holy 
men,” he said with reverence; and the Greek 
was glad to obey. 

He led the two into the inner, walled court 


« 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


where was a well, and while the young man 
drew water, the keeper with his own hands 
softly washed their stripes, cleansing the raised 
welts from the coagulated blood, which added 
so greatly to the smart and fever of the wounds. 
His family stood around, thoroughly roused by 
these strange happenings, and when this act of 
mercy, the first fruit of the new Gospel in that 
hardened jailer’s heart, was ended, one of these 
“ holy men ” baptized both him and his whole 
family. 

Hector looked on, greatly impressed by the 
solemn ordinance, though secretly longing to 
hear the men speak again of the Christ they so 
dearly loved. But the ceremony was no sooner 
over than the keeper, bowing reverently before 
them, begged they would honor him by coming 
into his own apartments, and led them away. 
Hector, being conducted into the large common 
room of the prison by an attendant, was left 
there unchained until the morning. Throwing 
himself upon the bare floor, he leaned against 
the wall in a state of mind far different from 
that of yesterday. 

What words were these he had heard to-night? 
There was but one God, and He had been lately 
living upon earth in the form of man! This was 
a. part of what he had gathered, and the idea 
was not wholly strange to him, as he had been 
taught that the deities used to come down from 
Olympus to live among men, and he had always 
believed it. But this God came for but one pur- 
pose-only one! Not for His amusement; not to 
witness the fairness of the daughters of earth; 
not to disport Himself in sylvan groves, nor en- 
joy the triumphs of great processions, but to re- 
deem man from his sins. To teach him His own 
grace and love, until sin became hateful to him, 
and the beauty of holiness desirable. To show 
him the glory of self-sacrifice and the might 
of love. To be to him a Friend, an Elder 
Brother! 

In these surprising thoughts Hector forgot he 
was a prisoner, did not notice that he had no bed 
but the bare stones, and finally dropped to sleep 
in a blissful calm that made patience a thing of 
course, and happiness, even here, more than a 
possibility. 

He was wakened by a dazzling light, and 
looked up to see the keeper and several other 
men walking about in earnest conversation, 
while they examined the damaged walls. The 
brilliant light was caused by a large crack at his 
side, into which he could easily thrust his hand, 
and through which one ray of blessed sunshine 
fell directly upon his face, as if with a morning 
greeting. It cheered him inexpressibly, and he 
sat up with a smiling face, ready to meet the 
day’s troubles in a new spirit. 

The earthquake had done considerable dam- 
age to the prison, but the inmates seemed like 
other beings under the influence of last night’s 
events and this morning’s light. They were all 
gathered in this large common room, and the 
question of their further disposal was now 


21 

agitating these magnates, whose purple togas 
showed their high rank and dignity. One came 
and looked down at Hector, as he sat upon the 
floor. Instantly the youth bounded to his feet, 
and bowed with the grace of a well-knit figure 
and courteous training. 

“ Ah, my fine fellow, and what are you in here 
for?” asked the magnate, smiling a little, as he 
slowly measured Hector with his eyes. 

The latter looked at him frankly. He saw T a 
tall, handsome young man with the clustering 
curls which the royal boy, Nero, was making 
the fashion, and with a dress richer even than 
that of the Duumvirs, who had given Hector his 
ideas of royalty up to this time. He saw also a 
carelessly kind expression, a rather bored droop 
to the handsome mouth, and crow’s-feet about 
the eyes, that spoke of dissipation rather than 
of age. 

The keeper took the answer from Hector’s 
lips: “For a night brawl, sire. Then he was 
violent, and had to be double-chained.” 

The young patrician glanced down at Hector’s 
feet, and the other men turned to look, also. 

“ But he is unchained now, I see.” 

“ Yes, sire, as all the rest. The fetters were 
all broken by the earthquake.” 

“Yes, so I heard. Rather remarkable, that!” 

He turned and began talking with the others 
of something which had seemingly just oc- 
curred that Hector found himself deeply inter- 
ested in. 

Evidently those strange prisoners of last night 
had turned out to be free Romans, therefore ex- 
empt from scourgings and torture, unless by the 
decree of royalty itself. In their fright at what 
might result from this insult to the strangers, 
the magistrates had sent word at dawn to re- 
lease them. But when the keeper gladly brought 
the word he was amazed at the dignified answer 
of the two prisoners, that having been openly 
disgraced they would not accept of secret par- 
don! The magistrates must themselves come 
and set them free. And they had been obliged 
to do it— that was evident. Hector wanted to 
chuckle as he heard their low talk, half 
chagrined, half amused at their own mortifica- 
tion, and saw their annoyed faces. He only 
wished he had been awake to see it all! The 
young man who had spoken to him seemed to be 
enjoying the situation greatly, and did not cease 
his raillery at the discomfited officers. 

Presently, however, the others passed on and 
he turned back to Hector. 

“A night brawler, eh?” said he with a laugh. 
“ I thought we of the Castle reserved all such 
sport to ourselves in quiet Philippi. You must 
have been very drunk, though, or you could 
have held your own, my man!” running his eyes 
admiringly over Hector’s well-developed figure. 
“ There are not many with such muscles as 
those;” and his fingers closed over Hector’s mas- 
sive biceps. 

“ They are flabby now from disuse, sire,” the 
latter spoke up quickly with professional pride, 


9 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


22 


making them as tense ns possible. “ But in- 
deed. I was neither drunk nor quarrelsome 
until goaded to madness. I defended my sister 
from a crowd of your own Castle people, sire, 
and supposed she was safe in the house when 
they dispersed. Then I found they had carried 
her away, and what could I do but run after 
them with cries of fury and revenge?” 

“‘They’? You don’t mean our Roman 
bacchanals?” 

“ Yes, sire, I do.” 

“ No, no! I should have heard — how long 
since?” 

“ By my reckoning, which is uncertain in 
these holes, six nights ago, sire.” 

“ Six?” The patrician mused a second, then 
looked up with a start. “ Why, I—” Then he 
stopped. “ Who arrested you?” he asked next. 

“ The guards of the Castle. Some one called 
from a turret window and they at once sur- 
rounded me. I felled three with my bare fists, 
but they tripped me up and fell upon me, so that 
I was overpowered and nearly senseless.” 

“ I should think so. Jove! it was a feat! 
Felled three full-armed guards, and you half- 
naked, while they had spears and breastplates! 
Pretty well, pretty well! But tell me moi’Q. 
Why did you think your sister was carried off 
to the Castle, my youthful lighter?” 

Hector now told the story in detail, and the 
young lord listened with evident interest, wav- 
ing off the Duumvirs when they approached, 
with the words: 

“ Presently, presently! Go on and wait for me 
in the hall of justice. I think I have found an- 
other case of misguided zeal, and you are not 
the victims this time;” ending with a taunting 
laugh. 

They hurried out, red and warm, but did not 
answer the arrogant young lord as he deserved, 
and this convinced Hector that his rank must 
be greater even than he had at first supposed. 
The noble turned to the interesting prisoner 
again. 

“ Your tale is true, of that I am certain, but in 
some way you have made a great mistake. Your 
sister was not carried away, nor is she at the 
Castle. She escaped into the darkness some- 
where, and is doubtless awaiting you, safe and 
well, at home.” 

“ Oh, would I could go to her!” sighed poor 
Hector from his very heart. 

“You shall!” was the quick response. “I 
know who ordered— that is, I have an idea of 
the manner of your arrest, and am sure you have 
been simply forgotten. But you have suffered 
enough. In a few moments you shall be free. 
And here,”— the young patrician drew from his 
finger a ring of peculiar workmanship—” when 
you have found and comforted your pretty sis- 
ter, come to the Castle, show that ring, and ask 
for its owner. It will admit you. Will you re- 
member?” 

“ Certainly, O gracious prince. Accept the 
thanks of one who has twice won the Olympic 


crown, and therefore is perhaps not entirely un- 
worthy of your clemency.” 

“Hah! Is that true? I thought you were no 
common prisoner the moment my eyes lighted 
on you. Well, well!” smiling with easy kind- 
ness, “ put this upon your finger and mope no 
longer. You will soon be free, and there may 
come a time when you will not regret this short 
imprisonment. I will see you again.” 

He turned quickly, waved his hand in return 
to Hector’s deep salaam, and hurried on after 
the magistrates. The delighted young Greek 
gazed after him, wondering if he were really 
awake, or if this whole strange night were not 
some bright and vivid dream from which he 
must awaken to his dismal inner dungeon once 
more. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

TITE SOOTHSAYER AT HOME. 

N EAR the outer wall of Pliilippi was a quar- 
ter given over to the very poor. It was 
squalid and dirty beyond description. 
The low, mud-walled houses, crowded together 
and running over with human life, were set flat 
on the ground, guiltless of drainage or paving. 
Here garbage collected until the hot air was 
reeking and poisonous. Here starving curs 
wandered in bands and fought for a seldom- 
found bone; here women cooked over their tiny 
braziers, and scolded their crying children; here 
men sold and squabbled over their small, un- 
clean stocks of goods; here they all ate and 
drank, dressed and slept, lounged and worked, in 
the open street, or on the flat roofs of the hovels 
they called home. 

There was little cleanliness and less modesty, 
yet even among these often thievish and always 
hungry people could occasionally be found a 
real jewel of beauty and virtue — for the Spirit 
of God goetli as it listetli. 

A group of men of evil aspect and in the 
ragged garb of traveling mendicants was 
squatted in front of one of the vilest of these 
hovels, busy at some game in which dice were 
thrown and mites and quadrans changed hands 
frequently, and with heads close together in con- 
sultation at every pause in the gaming. When- 
ever they stopped to talk they ate of a sort of 
cake, made of a hash of mixed ingredients 
highly spiced and flavored, and drank largely 
from a common gourd of fermented liquor, sour 
and stinging in taste, but with strong intoxicat- 
ing properties. 

“ I tell you,” said one, whose features spoke 
of Roman descent, “ she must go if we have to 
carry her! She has been the best speculation 
we ever handled, and if I had had any luck at 
play, and you had not been so greedy, Alois, we 
could have called ourselves rich by now.” 

“ What aileth her, anyhow?” asked one of the 


TILE WRESTLER OF PIIILIPPI. 


23 


group, quickly, with intent to divert a quarrel, 
for the “ greedy Alois ” had started up with 
clenched lists; but he slowly dropped to his 
place again, and leaned back indolently as the 
Roman explained: 

“ Oh, she is feigning some ailment only. Since 
that affair with those two would-be priests, the 
other day,- she has been as weak as water, and 
as clear in her brain as you are— to our hurt!” 

“ She looks it rightly enough,” put in another, 
taking a long draught of the rank-smelling 
liquor. 

“ Oh, she is always white as the snow up on 
the range,” returned the Roman, pointing care- 
lessly to the mountains beyond the city, “ but 
that is nothing. 1 wist she is sullen only. She 
declares she can not prophesy any more. She be- 
wails her ‘ wickedness,’ the jade! and begs just 
to be let alone. She ought to have a good beat- 
ing, but—” 

He hesitated, and Alois, who wore a 
Phoenician’s headgear, added coolly: 

“ Peradventure that would end the business. 
It would be poor policy, Flavius. Better glut 
your temper some other way. Your little plan 
did not seem to work very well with the proph- 
ets, though!” and he laughed tauntingly. 

The two men glowered at each other, but Alois 
grew more cheerful. He had avenged his part- 
ner’s insulting epithet, and felt better. Indeed, 
the two men never ceased to snarl and bicker; 
yet while each feared and hated the other, they 
were so bound by mutual infamies and mutual 
distrust, that they clung together the more 
closely the greater their longing to pull asunder. 
It was a vile and terrible bond, which indeed 
had become a very chain of fret and turmoil, 
wearing into their sin-laden souls. 

Flavius, once a seaman and more likely than 
not of the galleys— at any rate an offscouring 
of Rome — was cruel, unscrupulous and brazen, 
a coward at heart, though capable of hardships 
almost incredible; Alois, the Phoenician, his 
junior by many years, was brave in action and 
had generous instincts, but self-indulgence had 
buried these better qualities till he was little 
more than a glutton and wine-bibber, getting the 
means to satisfy his appetite where and as he 
could. Yet, beneath his bloated exterior beat a 
heart which might even yet be stirred to pity, 
if the brain were not too stupefied to control it. 

The helpless victim of these two wretches now 
lay upon her mat on the roof of the house, a bit 
of soiled tent-cloth stretched between her and 
the sun, which beat down hot and relentless at 
this hour. Yet it was better here than in the 
small furnace-like rooms below, always close 
and odorous, for an occasional breath of air 
touched her white cheek and lifted the dark 
locks from her burning brow. She was a young 
girl of delicate form and features, but so 
pinched with famine and worn with travel and 
ill-usage that little beauty remained to her. Yet 
her eyes, large, soft, and heavily shaded by the 
black lashes, could never be less than beautiful. 


Presently a woman, deformed and hag-like, 
came up the outer stair, and, stepping to the side 
of the girl on the mat, bent over her. The great 
dark eyes opened and looked up with a troubled 
gaze. 

“ Well, Agistlia,” said the woman in a high, 
cracked voice, “ how do you feel now?” 

“ No better,” said the girl faintly, shutting her 
eyes again, while her brows contracted in a 
frown. “ Why can’t I be left in peace?” 

“‘Peace’! She talks of peace!” cackled the 
crone, apparently to the sky. “ And that when 
she has been lying here a stretch of thirty-six 
hours, at least! But who is to earn the mites 
while she is taking her peace, I want to know?” 

Agistha made an uneasy movement on her 
hard bed. “ I am too ill,” she muttered. “ Oh, 
for rest, rest, rest!” 

Tears began to ooze out beneath her white 
eyelids and fall over her sunken cheeks, while 
her lips, already lined by misery, quivered like 
a child’s. 

The woman muttered something and turned 
quickly away. She had had a daughter years 
ago, she had a granddaughter now, and a mother 
cannot be quite dead to feeling. She turned 
back, and with a sudden, half-shamed move- 
ment caught up her girdle and wiped Agistha’s 
face with a not ungentle touch. “There, rest!” 
she said. “ Sleep! I'll keep those wolves at 
bay. Sleep, I tell you, and fear not.” Then, 
before the dazed girl had fully caught her mean- 
ing, she was slipping down the rotten old steps, 
her face set and stern. 

The men were still throwing dice outside in 
the street, their voices raised and rapid in their 
ceaseless quarreling. But Orientals can do an 
incredible amount of screaming, gesticulating, 
rending of garments and tearing of hair, with- 
out coming to blows, and the woman only threw 
them a contemptuous glance, and shrugged her 
shoulders as she went about her work. 

By and by Flavius peered in at the door and 
called out: 

“ Say, Phryne, where lyeth the girl? Did you 
arouse her, as I bade you, and tell her to be 
ready for the evening hour when the rich idlers 
gather at the forum, waiting to be amused?” 

“ Oh, I told her— yes.” 

“ You told her— well, is she up? She must 
have some food, I suppose, and by that time—” 

The old woman looked at him, showing two 
long fangs of teeth in a horrible smile. “ Wliat 
a fool you are, Flavius!” she remarked in an 
abstracted fashion. “ Know you not the creature 
is dying? Why cannot you let her go in peace?” 

He started and stared at her. Alois, too, set 
down his dice box and came forward, while the 
other men glanced up from their gambling to 
peer through the open door, their throws sus- 
pended in air. 

“ Dying? Who says so? How do you know?” 
shouted Flavius, hoarsely. 

“ Hush! I would not tell her of it were I you 
—though, Pluto knows, she must be glad to go! 


24 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


Yes, she lias one chance in twenty, perhaps, to 
live.” 

“ One chance! You’re lying, witch!” 

She chuckled. “ That is a bit of foolishness I 
lay no claim to— lying just for the sake of lying. 
I keep it for occasions when it will serve. 
Usually it is quicker to tell the truth. It is now. 
She is dying, unless something I do not expect 
turns up to save her. Go see for yourself, go 
ask the best leech in Philippi, go consult any 
soothsayer— they will tell you the same. It is 
written on her face— it looks out of her eyes; 
but there is always a chance.” 

Flavius scowled fiercely, seeing his easy gains 
about to desert him forever; for though Agistha 
had not been able to prophesy since the two 
strange men, whom she had persisted in follow- 
ing to designate them as “ servants of God,” had 
commanded the evil spirit to come out of her, yet 
he had fully expected the power would return as 
soon as she was well enough for him to once 
more subdue her by famine, fright, and the force 
of his own will. Could it be that death was to 
steal her from him, and leave him bankrupt? 

As he stood thus, filled with evil musings, 
Alois asked with a touch of real concern in his 
voice: 

“ But the one chance in twenty, Phryne; what 
is that?” 

She looked from Flavius to him, and laughed 
maliciously. “ What an interest you have in 
her— you two! Why should I help keep her alive 
to make a living for you two lazy louts? She 
does not care to get well, I will warrant you.” 

“ Do you not share our gains, you old imp 
from Tartarus?” cried Flavius in a fury. “ Do 
we not buy your rotten fruit and spoiled wine, 
you old cheat and usurer? Do we not—” 

Phryne burst into a louder laugh, and shook a 
long, bony finger in his face. “ Who asks you to 
buy my wares, you galley slave? Take your 
trade elsewhere, if you like— there is plenty to 
buy— and next time you come whining around 
for credit, just remember my fruits are rotten, 
will you?” 

She turned her back on him and spoke to 
Alois. “ Her one chance?” she repeated, as 
calmly as if she had not just been screaming at 
the top of her voice. “ It is this— that she be 
left to sleep undisturbed till the moon is full. 
That is all that will save her. She is literally 
worn out.” 

“ And it is but a crescent now!” cried Alois. 
“ What will we do meanwhile?” 

“ Work, you dogs!” said the woman in a fierce 
tone, “ and I will keep the girl. She will not eat 
while her fever is on, and my little Persis can 
sit by her at times. You leave her to me.” 

“ I will have a look at her myself!” said the 
man suddenly, and stepped to the stairway. 

Flavius instantly followed him. Nobody could 
tell what plan this precious partner might have 
in mind to defraud him. Perhaps he and the 
old woman were in conspiracy together. He 
must be watched every instant. 


Alois reached the roof first. The sun was set- 
ting and the low housetop, overhung by higher 
walls beyond, was quite in shadow. In his bare 
feet he stepped across the rough flooring of 
dried sticks and mud, to the reclining figure on 
the mat under the tent-cloth. She must be 
asleep, for she was very still. He bent over her, 
gave a startled cry, and touched her cheek- 
then sprang back and turned to see his partner 
close behind. 

“ She is dead already!” he said in an awe- 
struck tone. “And look! See how she smiles. 
She is glad to go, poor little thing! Flavius, we 
have been hard with her.” 

He watched her with a softening expression 
for an instant, while the other man, after one 
look, turned away with a curse. 

“ Peace!” said Alois. “ She was a meek, docile 
creature. I am glad she can smile now— I 
thought she had forgotten how. Why, she is 
really comely, Flavius!” 

He looked around, to see his partner’s brows 
met in a black frown. 

“ She was worth a half-dozen denarii a week!” 
he muttered, setting his teeth together with a 
curse. “ That was beauty enough for me. And 
it will cost at least one to bury her. I thought 
the omens bad enough when I heard those 
wretched priests had got out of prison in such a 
strange way, and in high feather, but this is 
worse! Cover her face, Alois; she looks as if 
she was laughing at us— curse her!” and, turning 
hastily away, he flung himself down the stair- 
way in the blackest of even his black moods. 

Alois lifted the end of the girl’s ragged girdle 
and laid it gently over the white face, stopping 
another instant to place the hands together on 
her breast. 

“ I wish we had been a bit kinder to you, little 
one!” he muttered, then turned and followed his 
partner, leaving the poor girlish soothsayer to 
sleep in peace, wept only by the dews of even- 
ing. 

Burials were never long delayed, especially 
among the very poor, who had no money for 
embalming cloths and spices. That evening, 
not two hours later. Phryne wrapped the child— 
she was little more— in an old white chlamys 
made into a grave-cloth and wound about over 
her chiton of roughly-woven cotton, then with 
the help of Alois, carried her below. 

Flavius had left the house immediately, and 
did not return for a day or two. A rough bier 
was procured, and a few neighbors gathered 
with torches. Some one had secured a permit to 
allow of their going without the walls to the 
place reserved for the pauper dead, and amid a 
procession of not more than half a dozen, four 
of whom bore the light burden and two the blaz- 
ing torches, Agistha was borne to her tomb. 
Some one with a charitable heart slipped be- 
tween her stiffened lips the obolus, or silver bit 
of coin for the payment *>f Charon when he 
should tow her over the Styx, and as they set 
down the bier before the rude cave, one sang a 


% 


TIIE WEE STEER OF PlIILIPPI. 


wailing chant in lieu of a flute. The tomb was 
poor and shallow. As the men rolled away the 
entrance stone, a cloud of bats flew out and 
circled about the flaring torches, startled by 
their smoky glare. 

The men had just turned to take up the bier, 
and stood to repeat an incantation before shov- 
ing it into the tomb as a baker shoves a tin of 


25 

dashing down upon it, yelling in their savage 
manner, and ripe for plunder. 

As with one accord the bier was dropped, the 
torches thrown down and extinguished, and the 
frightened mourners— who were in no real sense 
mourners at all— hastened to hide amid the 
thickets close by, thence to creep tremblingly 
back by varying routes. Thus slinking and 



He quickly answered the sharp, feeble wail by the brisk words. “Don't be frightened— 
1 am here. I will help you.”— See page ( 2t>. 


loaves into his brick oven, when there came an 
interruption. A band of marauders, who lived 
in the fastnesses of the mountains, had stolen 
down into the plain just without the gates, in 
order to pick up whatever spoil in the shape of 
stray sheep, goats, or unprotected travelers they 
might come across. Seeing the lonely little 
funeral train, they, in pure wantonness, came 


crawling between clumps of weeds and outcrop- 
ping rocks, they gradually drew nearer t lie 
walls, until they dared make a dash for the 
gates, leaving the laughing raiders to ride away. 

But the body of Agistha lay on the bier out 
under the pale stars, in the dark shadow of her 
tomb, unprotected by even its rude stone from 
prowling beast or unclean bird. 


26 


THE WRESTLER OF PITILIPPI. 


CHAPTER IX. 

SOME MEMORABLE MEETINGS. 

I T line! been a hot day, but the night was cool, 
and by midnight the condensed vapors fell in 
a brisk shower, sudden and drenching, 
though brief. A small party of travelers, hasten- 
ing across country, made a quick rush for the 
bluff off to their right, hoping to find an empty 
cave among the tombs therein, and at any rate 
a partial shelter from the driving storm, amid 
its rocks and bushes. 

It had grown intensely dark, and as they stum- 
bled along, their footsteps and voices drowned 
in the roar of the heavy rainfall, one of the 
young men became separated from the others 
and groped his way in an opposite direction, 
as he followed the bend of the cliff. Here he 
was glad to find that by squeezing between two 
tall boulders, fallen together in tent shape, he 
could secure shelter. 

As we have said, the storm was brief though 
severe, and presently the driving sheets of rain 
grew thin, as if torn into strips, then fluttered 
into mere rags of vapor, and finally cleared en- 
tirely away, as though blown quite out of exist- 
ence. 

Almost immediately the moon broke forth, 
bright as a golden crown still unjeweled. See- 
ing the storm was entirely past, the youth was 
about to crawl out from his cramped quarters, 
when, with a thrill of superstitious terror, he 
noted that just beyond him, quite close to the 
honeycombed bluff, was a rude bier, and that 
the white-enshrouded body upon it, which 
should have lain motionless, was sitting up, 
eerie and solemn against the moonlight. 

As he watched it, awe-stricken and chilled at 
the ghostly sight, he saw its head turn slowly 
like a child’s just wakened from deep sleep, and 
then, still slowly, as if from weakness or cum- 
bering garments, it rose to its feet, and looking 
in every direction, with hastier and more con- 
fused motions, it broke into a pitiful little cry: 

“ Oh, where am I? Help! help!” 

The youth, being of better sense than some of 
the superstitious multitude, saw at once that the 
child (the voice sounded like a child’s) had not 
been dead, as supposed when hastily borne to 
the tomb, and had been roused by the stinging 
rain to full life and consciousness, only to suffer 
an agony of terror in that gruesome place. 

He quickly answered the sharp, feeble wail 
by the brisk words: “ Do not be frightened— I 
am here. I will help you— wait!” For he knew 
that her feet must be bound together with the 
grave-cloths, and that if she should stumble in 
that rough place, it might injure her seriously. 

Still thinking her a mere child, he hurried, to 
the trembling figure, telling himself that it 
looked so tall only because of the clinging white 
garments and the moonlight at its back, which 
set it out like a picture never to be forgotten by 
the beholder. 


“Wait!” he kept urging as he clambered 
across the rough, boulder-strewn space to lier^ 
side. 

And she answered: “Oh, who are you, and 
where am IV Have 1 waked in Hades, and are 
you sent from Pluto to bear me into the Eternal 
Shades?” 

“ No! no!” cried the youth cheerily, yet half 
shrinking from the spirit-like figure too, “ no, in- 
deed! Do you not see the moon? This is good 
old earth yet, and I am a traveler who happened 
along just in time. When did you die — go to 
sleep like this? Do you know?” 

Agistha looked at the stranger wonderingly, 
for the bright light, falling full upon his face, 
made it quite plain to her. He was ruddy and 
fair to look upon, like David of old, and from 
his blue eyes beamed a kindliness not so com- 
mon but that Agistha noted it at once. She 
watched him silently, without attempting to an- 
swer a question she had not yet fully compre- 
hended, as he loosed her feet and hands. Then 
a long shiver went over her— she was beginning 
to remember. 

“Where is this?” she whispered. “Are 
Flavius and Alois near by? Did they do it to 
punish me? Am I outside the city gates? Where 
is Phryne — oh! is this the place of tombs?” 

These rapid questions were poured forth so 
eagerly that the youth really caught but one 
name which was in any sort familiar. 

“ Phryne?” he repeated. “ I know a woman— 
but then it is a common name. Yes, this is near 
the tombs. You have been in a deep sleep that 
they took for death. But no one else is here, and 
the city gates are now locked for the night. Be 
patient, however, and I will conduct you hence 
in the dawning. Look! Already the moon is 
near its setting, and it will soon be quite dark. 

I have friends near by who will help me care 
for you. Come!” 

The girl looked at his outstretched hand a 
minute, as if slow of comprehension or reluctant 
of friendliness. But soon she slipped her own 
into it with a gesture of trust that pleased the 
youth. 

“ It is a good child, but hardly a bright one,” 
he thought, as he led her carefully amid the 
roughnesses. He refrained from calling aloud 
for his friends, however, as he had no desire to 
attract the notice of lurking thieves, or animals. 

Presently, as they stumbled along in the dim- 
ming light, he saw a body moving beyond him 
in the thicket and, after a sharp look, ventured 
to call out restrainedly : 

“ Tliallus, is that you?” 

An eager voice answered at once: “What, 
Herklas? W"e were frightened about you. We 
thought — but whom have you there?” 

“ It is a child, brought here while still alive, 
for burial, and left, for some reason, outside on 
her bier. A fortunate thing for her too, as the 
rain evidently revived her.” 

“ Dreadful! This smacks of crime. How she 
shivers, poor thing! She must be wet to the 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


27 


bone, and frightened into the bargain. Come, 
we have found a dry and empty cavern— the 
one used by the hermit Pergoman, who lately 
died, we imagine. The others are kindling a 
fire, and we will have something warming be- 
fore we go farther. Let the child come in and 
dry herself.” 

Still clinging closely to the hand of Herklas, 
Agistha was led into the cavern, and as they 
stooped to enter the low doorway a bright 
tongue of flame shot up against its inner concave 
wall. Some one glanced up from blowing it, to 
ask: 

“ Did you find him, Tliallus? Ah!” He looked 
hard at Agistha, while the two other men who 
were crouched near by, talking in low tones to- 
gether, stopped and turned to gaze. 

In a low tone Tliallus explained, and at once 
the other three became gentle and attentive in 
manner. They made room for the girl close by 
the fire, and one laid his abba on the rough stone 
floor for her to sit upon, while another wrapped 
his, freshly warmed, around her shoulders. 

All this was so unusual that Agistha was 
speechless from sheer astonishment. When, 
presently, they passed her plain hot food and 
drink, she took it in silence, eating and drinking 
ravenously, but speaking never a word of thanks 
o r a c k n o w 1 ed g m e n t . 

She felt that she must, somehow, have got into 
another world, or country, even if she had not 
died. She noticed that, before the others ate, 
one spread his hands above the food and begged 
of God to bless it. He did not speak the name 
of one of the Penates, either, but seemed to ad- 
dress some great and glorious Being for whom 
his heart was filled with love. Agistha gazed 
and wondered, but she felt strangely weak and 
sharply hungry, so she attended closely to her 
meal. She was on the lookout, however, for 
what might come next, and marveled to see that 
these men neither quarreled nor threw dice, but 
only talked in gentle tones of some dear and lost 
Companion whom they seemed to think God- 
like in all his attributes. 

Enjoying it all with a restful sense of safety 
and comfort, basking in the warmth of the fire- 
light, and feeling without knowing it the first 
effects of that broad. Heaven-born love-light 
which was to flood the world in beauty, she soon 
fell asleep once more and “ rested ’’—poor, 
weary maiden!— as she had not for years. 

It was indeed a haven for the little slave girl. 
Three of those with whom she found herself 
were Christian Jews from the mother church at 
Jerusalem; the fourth and youngest was, as we 
have seen, Ilerklas, the lost brother of Salome 
and Hector. The reasons for his continued dis- 
appearance were as follow^; 

One day the old worker In metals, Vitellis, to 
whom he was apprenticed, sent the boy to 
Neapolis to inquire for a consignment of gold, 
which he had ordered shipped from the island of 
Thasos some time before, and over the delay of 
which he was growing thoroughly uneasy. 


Herklas had no time to let the home friends 
know of this jaunt, but thinking he would of 
course be back by evening, he set off briskly on 
foot for the seaport, between eight and ten miles 
away. The well-built Romair road, leading to 
Neapolis, first crossed a plain thickly traversed 
with rivulets and larger streams, and famous as 
the battle-ground where Anthony and Octavius 
defeated Brutus and Cassius, after which the 
two latter, despairing of restoring “ honor to 
Rome,” both committed suicide. Beyond this, 
Herklas came to a ridge of highlands from 
which fine views of city and coast broke 
upon his view. But to-day lie was thinking 
neither of the historic battle plain, nor of beau- 
tiful scenery, as he trudged lightly along, 
whistling in boyish fashion. He was reflecting, 
as he often did, that this might be a much 
brighter and better world if only a few things 
were different. He looked about on the green 
and beautiful country, then up at the blue sky, 
and mused: 

“ It would not need any prettier world than 
this to make an Aiden, if we who live in it were 
different. There are days when I feel like being 
kind and helpful to everyone, and then every- 
thing about me looks fairly radiant; even my 
master unbends and ceases to growl at me. 
Then there are other days— oh, how they drag! 
I feel dissatisfied with everything. My work all 
goes wrong, my graving tools slip and work mis- 
chief, I feel almost like murdering old Vitellis, 
and will not even praise the nice dish Salome 
has helped prepare for my supper! Yet every- 
thing is just the same as it was the day before, 
only I am different. So it is plain enough to see 
that when I feel right all is right. I must con- 
sult the oracle- about that and see if there is 
nothing— no charm or talisman I can use — to 
keep me feeling so. But alas!”— he ceased 
whistling, to sigh,— “ those oracles are so vague 
I cannot half the time make out just what they 
mean. They tell me to ask the gods, and so I 
do— but there are so many! I sometimes think 
I have never really hit upon my special patron, 
because they do not seem to hear when I call. I 
suppose, if I had gone into the priesthood, as I 
once thought of doing, I should know more about 
all these things, but they do puzzle me now.” 

He reached Neapolis some time before noon, 
and found that the galley which was to bring 
the gold had been detained off Samothracia by a 
pestilence that had broken out among the slaves 
at the oars, and had just been permitted to enter 
the bay and discharge its freight by means of 
lighters, this very morning. So, until the small 
barges had accomplished their work of unload- 
ing, he had nothing to do but lounge about, and 
secure a porter to help him carry the gold and 
protect it, in its conveyance to Philippi. 

For a long time he stood on the high promon- 
tory overlooking the sea, and watched the busy 
harbor— a brilliant sight to see on a fair sum- 
mer's morning. But, at last, hunger called him 
back into the town, and he was soon munching 


28 


T1IE WRESTLER OF Pill LI RPI. 


his bread and fruit at an open booth, on the look- 
out for a certain stalwart Nubian porter whom 
he knew. 

He had not long to wait before the tall, mas- 
sively-built fellaw came down the street, his 
white turban towering above all those he met, 
his good-natured face like an ebony carving be- 
low it. 

“ Salve! Welcome!” cried the boy, running to 
meet him. “ Come, Aram, I have business for 
you, and we can get about it soon now, I think.” 

“ ’Tis well,” said the black slave, showing a 
set of perfect teeth in his broad smile. “ It has 
been a dull time, Master Herklas, and I am glad 
to earn a stater. What will there be to carry?” 

“ Gold in the nugget,” said the boy. 

“Ha! Then let us hasten, that we may have 
full daylight for the journey, for they say the 
mountain brigands have been out in force lately, 
and I want no meetings with them.” 

“ Well, come on then,” said Herklas carelessly. 
“ We will see if the freight is all in by this time. 
As for the brigands, if they know anything they 
will keep in the shade, for there is a fresh troop 
of guards at our Castle, just brought by some 
Roman general, and they will give sharp chase 
to those marauders some day. They have been 
getting far too bold.” 

“Bah! What do those trained legions know 
of the brigands’ modes of fighting! A sudden 
swoop, like a lot of vultures carrying off every- 
thing in their path, then a dash for the heights 
where, crouched behind rocks and brush, they 
pick off the soldiers as easily as an ox-goad 
snips off the daisies by the roadside. Roman 
guards are good enough in t lie field, but we need 
Bedouin Arabs to conquer these liill-folk, I tell 
you!” 

Still talking, they returned to the pier, where, 
after an hour or two of delay, they were enabled 
to secure the gold and start out for Philippi, 
with the treasure well hidden in their loose 
girdles, beneath which they also carried dirks 
of tempered edge. 

It was late afternoon when they left the sea- 
port town. As usual, at that hour, the broad 
Roman highway close to the city gates was well 
filled. Merchant traders carrying their goods up 
into the interior, or agriculturists bringing their 
products for shipment to south and west; sol- 
diers who had been on a furlough of a day, 
hastening back to the fort before evening roll 
call; pagan priests in perpetual journey ings to 
and fro, looking well after their offering^; work- 
men seeking employment; pleasure parties; and 
always the ragged, filthy, traveling mendicants, 
begging or stealing their way. 

As they trudged along over the rising ground, 
Herklas fell into conversation with two other 
young men whose looks pleased him. They were 
from Jerusalem, and talked intelligently of their 
magnificent home city, while Herklas listened 
with open ears, being a youth who was glad to 
pick up information whenever and wherever he 
could. He soon found they were of the sect 


called of late, for brevity’s sake, “ Christians,” 
the name having been first used at Antioch, 
whence it rapidly spread in all directions. He 
had heard such distorted accounts of them 
hitherto, that he was surprised to find these men 
exceptionally courteous, well-informed, and 
friendly, and he began to ask some questions 
concerning their faith. 

He soon learned they were of the number who 
had been “ scattered abroad upon the persecu- 
tions that arose about Stephen,” and who, after 
Barnabas had taken charge of the growing 
church in Antioch, determined to press on far- 
ther, carrying wares to sell through the upper 
country, and telling the glad tidings as oppor- 
tunity offered by the way. They were not 
Apostles, nor ordained Evangelists, like their 
more learned brethren soon to arrive at this port , 
but humble followers of their beloved Christ, 
who could find no happier task than telling the 
story of the Cross to any who would listen. 

Herklas heard it this day, as they kept pace 
together, their long shadows stretching at their 
sides where they kept the northerly direction, 
with the fresh sea breeze at their backs, while 
they crossed the ridge and entered the famed 
battle-field of nearly a century before, rich in its 
running streams. He listened and his boyish 
heart received an impression such as had never 
reached it before. 

To tlynk that God should take upon Himself 
the form of man! And for what? To prove He 
could feel for the poorest, the humblest, the most 
sinful! — for did not these men say that Jesus con- 
fessed to being “ tempted like as we are”? To 
show us there is no glory like that of giving, no 
power like that of loving; to save us— not from 
the wrath of gods like Vulcan or Pluto, but 
from our own wretched, torturing selves! To 
bear our burdens, to heal our infirmities, to un- 
derstand our sore trials and temptations. 

“Why, we need not fear such a God as that! 
We— yes, we could be real friends with Him, 
even!” cried Herklas suddenly, in a tone of won- 
dering awe. 

The young men smiled, and one whom his 
companion called Amasa, said gently: 

“ ‘ Henceforth I call you not servants; I have 
called you friends.’ ” 

“Who said that?” asked Herklas quickly. 

“ Christ, our Lord,” was the reverent answer. 

To some, belief comes slowly and painfully, 
born of the throes of doubt and difficulty; to 
some in despair and shrinking, with Fear whip- 
ping the reason into subjection; to some in- 
stantly, fully, and with joy, like the sunburst 
through a gray cloud. In this way it came to 
Herklas. He had long questioned of his own 
gods, his heart hungry after truth, and now he 
threw his soul wide to the welcome Light, and 
cried: 

“ Oh, may I be His friend? May I love Him, 
walk with Him, help Him do for men as He did 
when here in the body? May I, Amasa?” 

The young man turned and looked into the eo- 


29 


THE JVBE STEER OF PH I LI PPL 


raptured face of the youthful questioner, glow- 
ing in the pink glory of the sunset radiance. The 
thought thrilled through him that here was one 
who had not come, like so many, dragged by 
pains and infirmities, but rather bringing treas- 
ures of youth, hope, work, and life to offer. The 
boy must fully know what he was doing, so 
Amasa slowly, gravely, told him what would be 
expected of Christ’s friends— that they must 
even drink the cup that He drank of — the cup of 
sacrifice, loneliness, poverty not only, but of 
persecution and possibly death itself.' Was he 
ready? “ Could you endure all these for the sake 
of the Christ?” asked the man in a deep voice. 
“ Remember He said, Himself, ‘ He that lovetli 
father or mother, brother or sister, more than 
me, is not worthy of me.’ And again, ‘ He that 
taketh not up his cross and followeth after me, 
is not worthy of me.’ Can you forsake all— busi- 
ness opportunities, pleasures, family, home, and 
perhaps life, for Christ?” 

Herklas did not answer at first. Truly these 
considerations were weighty with a lad happily 
surrounded, well loved, and with brightest pros- 
pects for the future. Gravely he paced along 
with his now sil,ent companions, the Nubian 
toiling after, well loaded with the golif, and some 
rich stuffs from Damascus, consigned to a 
Philippian merchant. 

But the love that had so suddenly sprung into 
life within the boy’s soul was no feeble plant, to 
die with the first breath of cold air. He felt 
it grow stronger, surer, more steady, and pure, 
with every step he took. They were now on 
the plain, and here Herklas met the tide in his 
affairs for time and eternity which would lead 
to God. 

He turned presently, stopping in his walk, and 
the others stopped also, listening for what he 
might say. His ruddy cheek had paled a little, 
but in his eyes shone a clear and steady light. 

“ I am young,” he said, “ and not very bold, 
nor strong, but ’’—lie drew in a long breath— 
“ for such a Friend 1 can risk all. Yes, 1 ac- 
cept the work. 1 will be His!” 


CHAPTER X. 

HERKLAS AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

T HE little company had lingered as they 
talked, and the Nubian was growing im- 
patient. 

“ I want to get by the place of tombs before 
darkness falls,” he said, “ for that is a favorite 
lurking-ground for these hill folk, and We are 
but a small party; Master Herklas.” 

“ We are stronger than you think for, Araih,” 
was the boy’s Significant answer to this low* 
spoken Warning, 

" Yes, with these two«*but will they fight?" 
asked this practical Nubian* 


Herklas smiled. “ T was not thinking of 
them,” he said, “but I believe they would help 
us defend life and property, surely.” 

Even as he spoke the silent Jew, whom they 
called Thallus, suddenly raised a hand. 

“Listen!” he said; and responsive to his ges- 
ture, each one stopped and stood intent and 
watchful. “ You hear it?” he asked in a quick, 
low tone, “ the thud of horses’ feet on a run? It 
is no caravan train. Come into this clump of 
willows and wait.” 

He led them down the sloping bank of the 
stream they were still following, into the little 
thicket of half-grown trees, all yellow-green in 
their spring livery, which had not as yet deep- 
ened into summer’s hue. They had scarcely en- 
tered its soft twilight shade when the thunder 
of hoofs grew louder, and in another instant a 
swarthy band, armed with lance and spear, 
went dashing by on the run. They looked 
neither to the right nor left, but were making 
straight for the highlands, where, protected by 
the ridge, they could work their way in round- 
about fashion to their home caverns in the 
mountains. 

Their faces were stern and set, but among 
them Herklas saw one that made him shudder,- 
for he was a captive and young. His long hair 
swept back from a face gray as ashes, and his 
teeth glittered between lips tense and parted. 
He was bound to his horse, which was led by a 
fierce-looking brigand, and he swayed to and fro 
in the saddle, rigid as a corpse, held only by the 
thongs, for pain and fright seemed to have be- 
reft him of his senses. 

It was but a glimpse and they were gone! 

“They are pursued!” whispered Thallus, as 
soon as the fleeing riders had been swallowed 
up in the twilight shadows; “ but let us keep 
still until we see what it all means.” 

A moment later came a second troupe, all 
agleam with bronze and steel, as could still be 
noted in the fading light— evidently a portion of 
the Roman guard from the Castle. They too had 
been pressing straight forward, but just here 
made a detour to the right, across plain and in- 
tersecting streams, evidently with the intention 
of cutting off the robber band at some opening in 
the hills, as it was manifestly impossible to 
overtake the daring riders on level ground. 

When both troupes had disappeared in a cloud 
of dust, our four travelers emerged from their 
retreat and proceeded in security, but not a quar- 
ter of a mile beyond they came upon a scene 
which made even the Nubian cry: 

“ Well for us we were detained!” 

A small party, like themselves, had evidently 
been lately plundered. The ground was strewn 
with fragments of their merchandise, and the 
proofs of a fierce struggle were many. No doubt 
some of this company had escaped to rouse the 
garrison, but ohe, at least, had beeh taken, and 
their goods destroyed, or plundered. It was 
certain hovv, however, that all danger was over 
for that night* and our friend* leant entered 


30 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


welcome gates of Philippi, without further ad- 
venture. 

Here Herklas dismissed the Nubian, paying 
his price, and bade his new friends a brief good- 
by, for he felt that before joining his fortunes 
with theirs, he must report to his master, 
Vitellis, deliver the gold, and inform him of his 
intention to leave his service. This, somewhat 
to the boy’s surprise, proved a rather difficult 
task, for Vitellis, who was old and deliberate, 
could not seem at once to comprehend, and was 
very loth to let him go. Herklas had not sup- 
posed he would care — for the goldsmith had 
often censured, but seldom praised his work— 
and was now both gratified and troubled to see 
that he really clung to his late apprentice. 

“What would you?” he cried sharply, as he 
eyed the youth with an astonished gaze. “ You 
have your holidays, one suit a year, and your 
wage, do you not? You are not bound to me by 
law, so I never beat you; and at the meal you 
eat with my family— are you not one with them? 
Do you think yourself called and chosen of the 
gods, that you give this up so easily?” 

The e 3 r es of Herklas lit up at this expression. 
It was common enough, to be sure, but it meant 
a great deal to him this day. 

“ Yes,” he said gravely, “ I am called of God.” 

Vitellis started. “ Would you be a priest? 
’Tis foolish!” The old man spoke with warmth. 
“ You have no learning— no money. You would 
be but a mendicant, footsore, weary, and home- 
less. It is not a comfortable lot, and there are 
many. Let those go who will not work. Good 
tradesmen are always needed to keep their 
scrips supplied. I never refuse my offering to 
the wandering priests, but I— I do not envy 
them.” 

Herklas shook his head. “ Y T ou do not under- 
stand me, master. I shall be no priest. I am 
going with honest traders, and I too shall work 
as they do; but I have a message to take— a mes- 
sage for Jesus the Christ.” 

He brought out the name boldly, and his mas- 
ter fairly jumped. 

“For Cliristus? For that sorcerer of Jerusa- 
lem, who was crucified with thieves? Are you 
mad? Know you not our great Claudius 
Caesar has a horror of these new sects and their 
pretensions? Do you court imprisonment, tor- 
ture— perhaps death, my son?” 

Herklas felt he was making his first stand in 
the new life. “ I do not court them— no, master 
—but if they come I shall be ready. I love Christ. 
He lived for me — He died for me. I wish to fol- 
low the example He set, and give all in return; 
for in giving all, do I not receive all? Let me go, 
master, with your blessing.” 

The old man gazed at him. He was no en- 
thusiast in liis pagan belief. He was a hard- 
headed business man, not given to fine words or 
deep thoughts, but with a simple creed of mind- 
ing his own affairs and letting the rest of the 
world mind theirs. It never occurred to him 
that these might be in one sense his affairs, also. 


Such an idea as resigning his shop. Ids home, his 
daily round of narrow duties and pleasures, for 
the mere purpose of Winning people to better 
ways of thinking and living, could never occur 
to 1dm. But in the face of this young proselyte 
he saw something that awed him and kept back 
the ironical laughter which Herklas had ex- 
pected to hear. 

“ Well, well,” he muttered at last, “ the world 
progresses! If, at your age, I had had your 
chance, not all the religions on earth could have 
drawn me away. But you are different.” 

“ Good-by, then,” said Herklas gently, making 
a deep salaam full of reverent affection. 

“ Farewell,” said the old man gravely. Then 
raising his hands above the bowed head, he 
murmured: 

“The gods— your God counsel you, boy!” and 
turning abruptly, walked away into his own 
apartments behind the smithy, leaving Herklas 
free to depart forever. 

From thence the boy expected to go directly 
home, but as he sped through a narrow street 
near by, he met Thallus and Amasa again, also 
hurrying along, with anxiety upon their faces. 

“ Ah, here he is!” cried the latter, adding 
quickly and joyfully, “ Well met, Herklas! We 
must depart at once for Amphipolis, we find, 
and we were about seeking you to ask if you 
would join us.” 

“ Now— this minute?” cried Herklas. “ I have 
not told my brother and sister yet.” 

“ It must be now,” said Amasa; “ the merchant 
train is ready to start, and we must travel with 
it this night for safety.” 

“ But—” began the boy again, when Thallus 
sternly interrupted: 

“Jesus said, ‘ No man, having put his hand to 
the plow, and looking back, is fit for the king- 
dom of God.’ ” 

Herklas bowed to the rebuke. “ I go,” he 
said briefly; “ lead on.” And after a moment he 
added, “ I have neither a change of raiment, nor 
have I money.” 

“ Fear not,” said Amasa in his bright way: 
“ we Christians always share with each other. 

‘ The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness there- 
of.’ Will He not see that your body is cared for. 
when your heart and life are given to Him? 
Come with us and fear nothing.” 

So Herklas went, consoling himself with the 
thought that Hector would inquire for him of 
Vitellis, who would let his brother know that he 
was alive and well, at least. 

“ And Amphipolis is only thirty miles away,” 
he murmured. “ I shall soon return.” 

But it was over a fortnight that Herklas spent 
wandering along that populous sea-coast with 
his new friends, the trio being soon joined by a 
fourth, a Syrian named Cyrus, who was as un- 
like Thallus and Amasa as they were unlike 
each other. 

He was between them in age, small, keen, 
brave, and ardent, yet with a vein of shrewdness 
which made him resent imposture, or oppres- 


THE WBESTLEIi OF PHILIPPI 


31 


sion. ite had been slow to believe, but having 
given himself, the surrender Was complete; even 
Herklas had no greater zeal. Yet in many ways 
the lad far surpassed his companions. He had 
an indefinable charm of manner, which, added 
to a face and figure such as even the usual 
Greek— famed the world over for perfection of 
form— might envy, gave him a subtle power to 
attract and Win friends. Then he was a natural 
orator. All untrained though he was, the street 
crowds listened eagerly to his every word, and 
the slow, stern Thallus and plain, good-natured 
Amasa— even the keen, witty Cyrus— watched 
With Wonder his compelling power and resistless 
energy. 

But while recognizing this, they felt no envy. 
Bach gave his all to Christ. If his endowments 
Were hot so great as another's, that was not for 
him to Worry over. God had created him as he 
Was for some Wise purpose, and if he could not 
do one thing, he could another. When one's life 
becomes in its possessor’s eyes but a part of a 
great plan, conceived by Wisdom far surpassing 
his own, such trifles as envy, disappointed am- 
bition, and failing powers are as nothing. 

The time slipped by quickly enough to the 
youth— more so than to his friends at home, who 
could get little information out of the taciturn 
old Vitellis, except that Herklas had left his 
service, and was well when he did so, always 
ending his gruff answers to anxious questions 
by the words, which they could not rightly un- 
derstand at that time: “ Ask the Christians— 
not me. Perhaps they have bewitched him!” 
after which he would turn back* to his work, and 
refuse to speak further. 

Amid a roving people, in an equable climate, 
where private correspondence is almost un- 
known, family bonds are readily made and 
easily broken. The poor have little to anchor 
them, and when work fails in one locality, it 
is no trouble to drift to another. Herklas had 
often been sent up-country for days at a time, 
and he had no thought that his dear ones would 
be anxious; nor did they until Salome conceived 
the idea of his being bewitched, as we have seen. 
Still, the affectionate boy was glad when word 
was passed to return to Neapolis for a time, in 
order to meet Paul and Silas there, and he took 
the occasion to hurry away at the break of dawn 
to his own beloved Philippi, bounding with light 
steps over the few intervening miles, because he 
was once again to see his dear Salome and brave 
Hector, and beg their sanction of his new plans. 
But it was while Salome lay ill and poor Hector 
was in prison that he thus hastily returned and 
could find no one to tell him a word of either, 
though little Nadab, had he but spoken, might 
have enlightened him concerning his sister, at 
least. 

For the few hours he had to spare he wandered 
about, vainly seeking them, to leave word with 
a neighbor, finally, as to his own whereabouts 
before he returned to his new friends. This 
neighbor, however, had also left the city when 


Salome was seeking her brothers, and so it was 
that a series of petty accidents, apparently, kept 
the three apart. 

Herklas and his companions were in the sur- 
rounding country several days, and it was as 
they were returning to Neapolis, after a short 
tour amid the farmers of the foothills, that they 
were overtaken by the storm and sought shelter 
in Pergoman’s cave, just in time for Herklas to 
come to poor, shivering, scared Agistha’s aid. 

When, the next morning, the girl awoke from 
her sound, sweet sleep it was to find herself 
alone, with the bright sunlight shining into the 
low opening of the cavern. She sat up and 
looked about her in the strange daze that one 
feels on awakening iu an unaccustomed spot. 
But slowly memory returned, and bit by bit she 
recalled the chain of incidents which had termi- 
nated in this cave of an Eremite. 

It seemed to her as if for years and years she 
had been wandering in a sort of evil dream, in 
which impure influences made her say and do 
things she neither desired nor understood. She 
felt she had been sadly abused, and that always 
worse when she tried to resist the influence and 
be her better self. When her masters told her 
she was losing her power, they beat and starved 
her until the strange trances enwrapped her 
again and she was ready to shout her crazy 
utterances as they desired. It had been a dread- 
ful time! All the more dreadful because away 
back — ages, it seemed to her, — she could vaguely 
remember such different things — a garden, a 
cool court with a fountain, and a little child— 
was it herself V— playing happily about its mar- 
ble basin. 

No, that part must be either a dream or some- 
thing she had once seen in those wearisome jour- 
neys they were always taking from place to 
place. IIow wretched they were! 

But worse than all, was that trouble in her 
head; those long, dazed spaces when she was not 
herself, but some one else, yet when by snatches 
she realized that everything was wrong. Before 
she could right herself, however, she would 
again lose the thread she had barely caught, and 
sink off into chaos once more. Now, for the first 
time her head was clear and cool, and had been 
growing so for many hours; in fact, ever since 
the day— she could not place the date— when, as 
she was ranting at the top of her voice, two men 
had passed by on the street, and she had seen 
them in a flash of sense and reason and been im- 
pelled to cry out: 

“ These men are the servants of the Most High 
God.” 

She had thus followed them more than once 
until— was it yesterday, or the day before, or a 
week ago?— one had turned, and in a stern voice 
commanded the evil spirit to come out of her. 
She only knew that something seemed to snap 
and rend in her brain, after which she had, as it 
were, awakened, her head and sight clear, her 
understanding bright, while a great loathing of 


32 


THE WRESTLER OE PHILIPPI. 


lier former state took possession of her. From 
that minute she could not “ prophesy,” no mat- 
ter how her masters might coax, or scold. Her 
understanding was too clear, she saw realities 
too plainly for visions or lunacies, and they were 
left to lament her lost power. But she was like 
a new creature, though weary— oh! weary unto 
death, it seemed! “ Rest I must have,” was all 
she could say. “ Rest!” And she had sought 
the roof of their miserable lodging-house to lie 
down and sleep, too ill to mind threats or kicks, 
in that utter exhaustion of body and spirit. 

She could remember no more until that dreary 
wakening on the bier, in the moonlight. Her 
fatigue must have thrown her into a sleep so 
near like death that no one could tell the differ- 
ence, and— what had it brought her to? 

She looked around again, and her eyes, accus- 
tomed now to the dim light, saw there was food 
close at her side, spread neatly on a bit of scrip- 
cloth. She partook with relish of the wafer- 
like bread, dried fish, and fruit, and felt the bet- 
ter for the meal, which was abundant and satis- 
fying. “ But,” thought she, gaining courage 
with strength, “ I am thirsty now. I will go out- 
ride and see if water can be found near by; 
learn too, if possible, where I am and what next 
I must do. One thing — I will not return to my 
wicked masters if I can help it, for some great 
Spirit stronger than the Python, even, has 
broken their evil dominion over me, and given 
me clear sight and sense again.” 

She rose, crawled to the cave opening, and 
looked timidly around. It was a glorious morn- 
ing, and the blue sky was scarcely broken by 
a cloud. Directly before her lay a plain, stretch- 
ing away into gently rising ground at her right. 
At her left were the city walls, no long distance 
off, rising sturdily against the soft back- 
ground of an undulating range of mountains, 
blue as storm-clouds against the horizon, and 
close about her was a rough bit of ground bushy 
and boulder-strewn, leveled from the cliff-like 
hill in which these tombs and caves were ex- 
cavated. 

A little spring issued from the hillside near by, 
and trickled away in a tiny rill into a larger 
stream crossing the plain. There a heron was 
wading in stately fashion, and far above two 
birds were circling and wheeling in airy flight. 
But no person was near. Even the highway 
built by Rome, which gleamed white in the near 
distance, was quite deserted at this minute. She 
was all alone. 


CHAPTER XI. 

AT THERMO AND CASTLE. 

W HEN Hector found himself free blicd 
more he could have leaped for Joy, 
though his limbs were stiff from long 
confinement, and sore from the rusty fetters, 
■to* he drew iu long breaths of the otffeg air aqd 


blinked his half-blinded eyes in the glorious sun- 
shine, his heart bounded in gratitude, and half 
involuntarily he said to himself, as he looked 
upward: 

“ For this I could thank the great God who 
loosed my fetters and those of the two men 
of Christ, last night. I could even thank the 
Christ who seemed to be their strong Friend. 
He must be greater than our gods, and certainly 
He is nearer and dearer to their hearts than any 
god has been to mine.” 

Hector walked away from the busy forum full 
of these thoughts, his feet making straight for 
home, where, ever since his talk with the young 
lord in the prison, he had fondly hoped to find 
Salome. But when he reached the tiny house 
within the wall he found it empty and chill. 
Salome was not there. Upon investigation, how- 
ever, he found that her clothing was gone, which 
was proof positive that she had been back since 
that dreadful night, unless— a surmise occurred 
to him which darkened his face again— unless 
Persis, the slave girl, had taken the garments 
and tied. If so, that young patrician had not 
been right about Salome’s escape, after all. And 
indeed how should he be so certain? Could he 
know everything that went on inside those garri- 
soned walls? Of course not! 

There seemed but one thing left him, and that 
was to go, as directed, to the Castle, show his 
signet ring, and see what good or ill fortune 
awaited him there. But before doing that, he 
must remove the marks of the dungeon; he must 
visit the baths and provide himself with fresh 
raiment. 

He found his own clothing undisturbed, and, 
selecting his best sleeveless undervest, the loin 
cloth, toga, and buskins, which formed the street 
attire of one of his station, he betook himself to 
a great building adjoining the forum, in which 
were the public baths of Philippi. These were 
under the same roof with the gymnasium in 
which Hector was a pupil, and he therefore had 
the privilege of private baths, with an attendant 
free, while ordinarily the poorer classes must 
content themselves with the great swimming 
pool, or natatorium, and depend upou their own 
exertions for the showerings, rubbings, and 
scrapings, which accompanied, or followed, the 
immersion. Even the smaller towns boasted 
fine baths, and that at Philippi was modeled 
upon those at Rome, though far smaller, less 
pretentious, and freer from ornamentation. 

As Hector reached the large stone structure he 
entered first an open court, fitted with long stone 
benches at either side, which were shaded from 
the hot sun by a portico supported on Doric 
columns. Here were always groups of men 
lounging and gossiping as they awaited their 
turn to enter the thermae. Hector recognized 
several of them, this morning, but feeling 
nshahied to be seen in his present woeful con- 
dition; he hurried by with befit head through a 
vestibule and short corridor, into a small room 
hevohd; called, the frlBldAvipip, Her* peg* 


33 


TI1E WRESTLES OF PHILIPPI. 


the wall offered a convenient place for hanging 
one’s garments, but as it was only for the use of 
those going into the natatorium, or large com- 
mon bath, Hector hurried through into an apart- 
ment close by, serving the same purpose for a 
private bather who wished the hot tank, with 
va attendant’s service, for which a small fee 
was demanded. 

Here a young page was in charge who, after 
saluting Hector with a wondering look, hurried 
off at once to summon the attendant he knew 
was desired, for the gymnast being an almost 
daily frequenter of the baths, the boy needed no 
directions in his service. 

Hector hurriedly disrobed, kicking his stained 
nnd ill-smelling garments into a corner for the 
boy to burn, then passed into the next apart- 
ment. Soon his attendant appeared, smiling and 
ready. He wore nothing but a breech-cloth, and 
over his arm hung the great rough towels used 
by all bathers. 

“Ah, Hermes!” said Hector pleasantly, “ hurry 
with your ointments, for I am stiff and sore.” " 

“Indeed!” cried the other briskly, beginning 
t$ set out a row of tiny phials, pots, and pestles, 
with thin, crescent-shaped articles of shell, upon 
the marble slab jutting from the wall. “ Indeed! 
Been wrestling again, have you? I hope you 
were not thro— hah! What’s this?” 

He looked up keenly. Those broad red welts 
on wrists and ankles never came from wrest- 
ling. 

Hector flushed warmly. “ Be gentle, boy! 
Your lightest touch is painful. I see you under- 
stand. Yes, I have been in prison.” 

“ But why? I cannot understand that! Hec- 
tor, the Olympionic, in a dungeon! That is 
passing strange.” 

Our friend briefly explained, and the youth, 
while tenderly anointing the raw parts, looked 
the sympathy and indignation he felt, for he 
was fond of this bather, and greatly admired 
his splendid strength and courage. As the nar- 
ration ended he broke out bitterly: 

“ It is of no use to be honest in these days — 
that does not serve! Let one try all his life and 
yet by ever so little offend some patrician, and 
click!— the dark doors shut you in, and there you 
lie to rot, forgotten. ‘ The gods have memory 
only for the great, and the great have memory 
only for those who can serve them,’— that’s the 
truest thing Seneca has said yet.” 

Hector was silent. Should he tell about this 
God of whom he had heard so lately, who sought 
out the poor and walked with them— who chose 
them out of all the world for His friends? But 
just then 'Hermes rose to his feet, his task ac- 
complished, and Hector was ready for the cal- 
darium. 

This long and narrow apartment was entirely 
of marble, its walls being laid double, that the 
space between might serve as flues, to conduct 
the hot air from the furnace beneath to every 
inch of the chamber. At its further end was the 
bath-tub, a shallow cistern twice as long as a 


man, and about four feet wide. It was raised 
above the floor so that Hector had to mount two 
steps to reach it, the top step forming a seat, 
while all around the inside ran a ledge, which 
also served as a resting-place. 

Upon this the young man placed himself, while 
Hermes poured over his head and shoulders 
large vases of the warm water from the great 
cauldrons opposite, which were placed directly 
over the furnace. 

“ There, that’s enough!” cried Hector at last, 
as he plunged gayly into the now well-filled tub. 
“ Oh, this makes me feel like a new man! It has 
taken all the smart out of my body, and the 
stiffness too. Be prepared, Hermes; I must 
have such a scraping and pounding as you do 
not often give me, I tell you!” 

The attendant laughed. “ I am ready for you.” 
he said, as Hector stepped from the tub, or 
alveus, into the labrum, a huge saucer-like re- 
ceptacle of white marble into which led a pipe 
which threw up a forceful stream of cold 
water that descended in a spray upon his shoul- 
ders. Its cold dash was allowed but for an in- 
stant, then Hermes caught up his great towel 
and quickly dried the bather, afterwards placing 
him upon a marble slab at full length. Here he 
first plied the horn or shell scrapers, thin half- 
rounds that left the flesh smooth as ivory, and 
then added the poundings, punchings, slappings, 
and rubbings, which gave both flesh and muscle 
the pliancy and perfection of an infant’s, with 
the hard endurance of the man’s. 

Thoroughly refreshed, and clean in every pore, 
his hair cut short in gymnast fashion and 
daintily perfumed, Hector finally issued from 
the great building feeling that the prison taint 
was removed from body, if not from soul, and 
stepped off at a brisk pace, prepared to push his 
fortunes with energy. 

It was something of a walk to the Castle, 
which connected with the fort that guarded the 
south-western wall, but he enjoyed every step of 
the way, feeling as never before the beauty of 
earth and sky, and the blessing of simple free- 
dom, with pure air to breathe, and sunshine to 
bask in. Surely some great Being had meant 
good to man when He made such rich blessings 
common to all, no matter how poor or humble. 
In return it would be a simple thing— a very 
little thing— to give one’s gratitude and love to 
Him. 

He climbed the ascent and reached the outer 
gate, guarded by two stalwart soldiers, whose 
helmets and spears glistened in the sunlight. 
As he approached they crossed spears before 
the gate, and awaited him. He made known his 
somewhat vague errand: 

“ I was bidden by a young lord to call here this 
morning. Here is his signet ring that I was to 
show.” 

He handed it to one of the guards, who gave 
it a glance, nodded, and passed it over to his 
fellow. 

" Aulus Clotius!” said he, and rang a sudden 


34 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


call by striking spear and breastplate sliarpjy 
together, even as the other threw one leaf of the 
bronze gate wide open and, returning the ring, 
bade Hector pass in, letting the portal clang to 
behind him. 

A page now stood before him who examined 
the ring, said briefly, “ Follow me!” and con- 
ducted the visitor across a broad court to an 
outer stair leading to an entrance in one of the 
many turrets of the Castle, which rose in mas- 
sive elegance before them. 

Up these marble steps the riclily-clad page 
lightly tripped, then opened a heavy door into a 
tiled vestibule. Across this Hector followed him 
into a large apartment with a raised, richly-cov- 
ered dais nearly surrounding it, and a small 
fountain playing in the center. Several cur- 
tains of Tyrian purple, heavy with embroidery 
of gold thread, indicated entrances into adjoin- 
ing rooms, while between gleamed exquisite 
marble statuary, shown off the better by 
pedestals of malachite and ebony. All the light 
there was filtered through many-tinted sheets of 
mica in the great dome above, and surrounding 
this tower-room at a goodly height was a gal- 
lery guarded by a balustrade of richly-carved 
cedar, from which like apartments seemed to 
open. 

Hector, who had been bidden to wait in the 
large, round room, decided these must be small, 
probably mere alcoves serving for private apart- 
ments, and lighted by the slits of windows he 
had observed without. Was it from one of these 
the voice had ordered him to prison? He was 
just considering the rather startling suggestion, 
when one of the curtains on the gallery was 
flung aside and the young man of the prison 
came out and leisurely descended the stairs, 
which began in two flights, to meet in a few 
broad steps at the base. He was carelessly 
dressed and his long curls were tumbled, as if he 
had been lying down. In fact, he looked sleepy 
still. Hector concluded he had been making up 
for an unusually early rising by a forenoon nap. 
And he was right. 

“ Well, my man, you are prompt!” said the 
patrician, half pettishly, as if not relishing the 
disturbance. “ But ” — looking him over with 
critical admiration— “ you can never be the pris- 
oner with whom I left my ring?” 

“ I am he, sire,” said Hector, salaaming. 

The other laughed. “ To be sure it was too 
dark to see plainly there, but— well, well! who 
would believe that mere externals could make 
such a difference? I thought you a big, strong 
fellow; now you look like a statue by Phidias— 
but there! I must not make you vain. And 
now tell me, you found your sister safe at home, 
of course?” 

“ No, sire, she was not there.” 

“ What? Really, this surprises me! She cer- 
tainly is not here, and never has been. I have 
made diligent inquiries, and no one has seen her 
since that night— of that I am positive.” 


“ Pier clothing is gone/’ said Hector, lookihg 
thoughtful, “ though that might have been stolen 
by the slave girl. I believe she was. none too 
honest. But I begin to hope Salome has found 
protection somewhere. I will make inquiries 
aipong the neighbors.” 

“ Yes, that will be best. I understayd you are 
a Wrestler, and have twice won the Olympic 
crown.” 

" It is true.” 

“ And is this glory so much to you that you 
could never exchange it for any other?” 

“ What other?” asked Hector quickly. 

“ That of a soldier.” 

Hector’s eyes flashed. “ This has served me, 
sire, so long as I could down all who were pitted 
against me,” showing his white teeth in a broad 
smile; “ but the soldier’s glory— that is lasting! 
And Rome is liberal to her brave men on the 
field.” 

“ True! ’Tis pity, though, you were not Roman 
born, for you would make a soldier to delight 
Mars, I wager. You are a Macedonian by 
birth?” 

“ A Thracian, sire.” « 

“ Of Greek parentage?” 

Hector bowed, while the other looked him over 
with a lingering glance. “ I should hate to spoil 
you by making a mere courtier of you,” he 
finally remarked, as if he were speaking about 
his guest to some one else. “ And yet, I like 
you. I would gladly attach you to my house- 
hold— by the way, do you know who I am, boy?” 

“ I overheard the guard at the gate mutter 
‘ Aulus Clotius,’ and I hoped you might indeed 
be that gallant young officer of whom the people 
say, ‘ Pie is bright, but he never knows when he 
is beaten*.’ ” 

The other laughed and flushed, Avell pleased at 
the rough compliment. “ The people know some- 
thing, if I do not!” he cried, gayly. “ But that 
is only one side of the tale. Do they not also 
say this foolish soldier is rusting in inaction and 
becoming simply a iveak favorite of his master, 
Claudius?” 

It was Hector’s turn to flush, now. Pie hesi- 
tated an instant, then answered: “ They say, 
sire, your talent for music is as great as for 
fighting, and that pleases the young Nero so well 
that he would keep your sword rusting if he 
could. Yet Aulus Clotius is again the soldier, 
is he not?” glancing about the Castle chamber 
significantly. 

“ Ah, you’ll make a courtier after all!” laughed 
the other. “ But be not too ready, my boy; the 
real warrior has no fine phrases, you know. 
And, bah! do these look like soldier trappings?” 
waving a hand over the rich apartment. “ No, 
no! Nowadays luxury creeps even into garri- 
sons like this, and the days go by idly enough 
when Rome lias nothing to do but count her 
kingly prisoners and celebrate her too easy 
triumphs.” He gave a quick sigh, shook back 
bis disordered locks, frowned a little, then burst 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


35 


✓ 


into a gay laugh. “ But come! we will make the 
most of it all wherever we may be. Say, boy, 
will you go with me to Rome?” 

To Rome! Hector’s eyes grew large. It was 
the dream of his life to visit that magnificent 
capital — a dream he had never expected to real- 
ize. He thought of Salome, of Herklas— both ap- 
parently lost to him; then he let his thoughts 
center on self. To go to Rome with Aulus 
Clotius! — to see its wealth, grandeur, gayety! To 
be one of a patrician household— perhaps a 
favorite! To be at Court and a part of that 
regal, luxurious existence! He forgot his stir- 
ring thoughts of the morning in this burst of 
splendid imaginings. He forgot home, kindred, 
and the divine news of last night, as worldly 
ambition for the moment wholly dominated him. 

“ Will I go, sire?” he cried with a laugh of de- 
light. “ But give me the chance and see!” 

“ It pleases you so?” — eying him with a sort of 
scornful surprise. “ Is it the thought of its 
luxury or its glory, I wqnder? Well, both are 
myths to a great extent. But why should I 
moralize over the foolish boy, when I am as like 
Him as one javelin is like another? Yes, Rome 
is a great city — and a wicked one. No wonder 
the idea delights you! What is your name, boy? 
I forget.” 

“ xiector.” 

“That promises well for a hero, anyhow; but 
nobody ever does live up to» a heroic name, 
more's the pity! I am to start to-morrow with a 
large escort. Be ready, and meanwhile — but 
have you breakfasted?” 

“ In the prison, sire;” making a rueful face. 

The patrician laughed amusedly. “ Its mem- 
ory is not enchanting, I see. But we can mend 
all that. My favorites do not starve on lentils 
and dried fish, I promise you!” 

He clapped his hands, and the page entered, 
bowing low before his master. 

“ See that this man is well fed and lodged,” he 
said briefly; then carelessly waving them away, 
he departed into one of the adjoining rooms. 

Hector followed the page down the outer stair 
apd around the tower, to a court in the rear, 
where a row of shed-like buildings bespoke the 
quarters of the men. At the end of the row was 
the kitchen, a large open place, covered only 
with tent-cloth, its sides entirely open to the 
breeze. He was sharply hungry, and the smell 
of the pottage steaming in a great kettle over a 
fire built in the depression made in the hard 
paving, came with most agreeable sensations to 
his nostrils. He was about to. stop and take a 
seat on the stone bench near by, where two 
guards, just relieved from duty, were enjoying 
a gourd full of the soup, sipping it in great gulps, 
when the page called him onward. 

“ Is that a place for one of Aulus Clotius' 
favorites to eat?” he asked disdainfully, and, 
turning through a narrow door in an intervening 
wall, finally stopped before the fine bronze door 
of a long building well arched and windowed. 


It was two stories in height, and above it was a 
dome-like skylight similar to that in the tower. 
It was, in fact, the banqueting hall reserved for 
special suites from imperial Rome, its second 
story being a gallery for dancing and music, or 
for spectacles and athletic games, if desired. 

Hector took in at a glance the noble apart- 
ment, finished in carved woods highly polished, 
with a raised dais at one end, where the half- 
round table was surrounded by rich couches, 
and the longer, plainer board below, with 
benches at the sides. 

“ Sit here,” said the page, placing him a short 
distance below the dais, “ and I will call some 
one to serve you.” 

Hector obeyed in a sort of daze. Soon the 
page returned with a white-capped attendant, 
who, in an obsequious voice, began naming over 
the dishes at the new-comer’s disposal. The 
somewhat bewildered young man modestly men- 
tioned a few which had always seemed great 
luxuries to him, and soon found them smoking 
before him. The page meanwhile lolled indo- 
lently near by, and asked questions, which Hec- 
tor managed to answer between mouthfuls with 
the good-humor engendered by satisfaction. 

“ Have you finished at last?” he cried saucily, 
as Hector swallowed the final crumbs of his re- 
past, and wiped his eyes. “ If you have, I will 
show you where the men of our company sleep. 
It is in the left wing.” * 

He hurried Hector along from this building to 
another, which joined the Castle itself. It was a 
long wing divided into small apartments. 

“ Here,” said he, “ is where my master’s 
special suite lies. You will of course have a bed- 
fellow— may he prove a pleasant one! Make 
yourself at home, and keep your own counsel. 
That is the rule at Court.” 

Still laughing, he turned, and, throwing up his 
hand in the fashion of the Bedouin who meets a 
friend in the desert, he sped briskly away to 
his light but often galling duties in the tower. 

— 1 - - — 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE HOME OP A ROMAN PATRICIAN. 

H ECTOR’S day passed rapidly, and but a 
short time was left for making his in- 
quiries about Salome, which, not being 
rightly directed, proved futile. As he came back 
towards the Castle he again saw the two Chris- 
tians of the prison. They were across the street, 
walking rapidly towards one of the city gates, 
being on their way to the little synagogue be- 
yond the walls, for the second service of the 
market day. Had he seen them in the early 
morning nothing could have kept him from their 
side, but since then, all-engrossing worldly plans 
had stepped in, and while he stood hesitating 
they disappeared. 


36 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


Had lie spoken to them they would doubtless 
have invited him to the service, and had he gcme 
he would have met his sister there, and his 
whole after-life might have been different. But 
his new ambitions held him captive, and he was 
led by them and not by God. 

Early the next morning Aulus Clotius and his 
train started on the long journey to Rome. They 
made the short march to Neapolis, and there 
took ship for the remainder of the distance. 
Hector found himself hastily fitted out with a 
uniform and horse, and he was proud to see that 
he formed one of the special body-guard of ten 
who rode in close proximity to the young chief, 
at the head of the train. 

Just behind this gleaming cohort of spears- 
men were two or three litters, also specially 
guarded, in which Hector learned there were 
ladies, and behind them marched a large band 
of slaves, porters, and attendants, to the num- 
ber of perhaps a hundred, while still beyond 
trailed a miscellaneous company of laden asses, 
camels, and pedestrians, merchant traders or 
mendicants, who gladly joined the cavalcade for 
sociability and protection. 

The garrison band accompanied them for a 
mile or so, waking the echoes with its stirring- 
strains, and as Hector rode leisurely along, car- 
ried so easily by his trained animal that he al- 
most forgot he did not know how to ride, he felt 
that life was .opening most brilliantly before 
him, and his pulses bounded in time with the 
stirring beat of drum and blast of trumpet. 

Every one they met on the broad highway 
stopped to gaze at the brilliant sight, and many 
a cheer greeted the brave young leader who rode 
so proudly at their head. 

In this pride Hector participated. If he ivas 
not the sun he was certainly close to it, and as a 
satellite he absorbed some of the adulation, and 
swelled with pride and vain-glory. Thus they 
rode into Neapolis, the town turning out to view 
the brave sight, and took their way directly to 
the pier, where lay the galleys in readiness to 
convey them to Rome. Hector had never taken 
a sea voyage, and the very, sight and smell of 
the blue, billowing waves stretching far as sight 
could reach, filled him with delight. The wide 
harbor, glittering in the morning sunshine, was 
filled with every sort of craft, from the blunt- 
prowed junks of the fishermen to the graceful 
Roman ships, with their great gilded figure- 
heads and pointed bows. 

“This is to live!” the youth thought, as, at a 
quickly-spoken order, he brought his horse 
around alongside several others to help form the 
double line through which the company were to 
pass as they embarked. 

But after he had sat motionless as a statue in 
the blazing heat for nearly an hour, his raptures 
were modified. In fact, he concluded that so 
much ceremony was monotonous and unneces- 
sary! First, the ladies were embarked. There 
•were several of these— the young wife of Aulus, 


Julia by name, his mother, Pamphylia, and 
their ladies-in-waiting— who were led across the 
gang-plank into a finely-appointed galley which 
floated the imperial colors. Next the house 
slaves and stores were placed in a second less 
pretentious boat, and lastly the guards were 
divided between the two, Hector being among 
those consigned to the royal galley. 

It was a relief to quit the saddle and take his 
place in the stern, on a level with a bank of oars- 
men, where he could watch their every motion. 
Yet often during the journey he turned away, 
sick at heart, from this sight, for their broad 
bare backs were scored with the lash, and down 
their haggard faces the sweat of their arduous 
toil poured like rain. 

“ It is a hard world for them,” he muttered 
often, “ even if they deserve their punishment. 
I wonder what they are thinking behind those 
brown, sullen faces all these long hours of labor, 
when they bend to the oars like machines rather 
than men. Does hope still beckon them on, and 
do they count the days till they are released? 
But if the release comes only with death—” 

Then sometimes came the flashing memory of 
those two Apostles in prison. Under scourging 
and torture they were not only brave and patient 
— they were triumphantly glad! It was a puz- 
zle beyond his solving. He wished now he had 
sought them out and talked with them. There 
were so many tilings he would like to ask in 
these long, lazy hours when there was little to do 
but speculate and dream. 

But when he reached the great metropolis, 
such musings vanished in the wonder and de- 
light of looking and living at this center of the 
world. As he once more rode by his master’s 
side and gazed out over the teeming streets, with 
their magnificent buildings, giving every evi- 
dence of unlimited wealth and power, he again 
swelled with exultation at' being one of the gor- 
geous mass, and cared little for the sufferings 
of other atoms. 

The stately palace reserved for the use of 
Aulus Clotius and his household formed a part 
of that great agglomeration of buildings known 
as the “ royal mansions,” and was directly 
guarded and officered by the Emperor himself. 
It was now 52 A. D., and Claudius had been 
eleven years upon the throne, a welcome suc- 
cessor of the detested Caligula, who during his 
short reign managed to make himself hated by 
all sects, but especially by the Jews, whom he 
had persecuted from Jerusalem to Joppa, with 
every form of indignity his evil mind could con- 
jure up. If Claudius was, not much more of a 
man, in many particulars, he was at least not a 
monster, and his faults were those of weakness 
rather than tyranny. Indeed, he was entirely 
under the control of his wife, Agrippina, the 
beautiful but unscrupulous daughter of the 
brave old general, Germanicus, and she was al- 
ready plotting to make Nero, her son by her 
former husband, his successor, rather than 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


37 


Claudius’ own boy, Brittanicus, who was a few 
years younger than his step-brotlier. 

Nero was tifteen, a fair, curly-haired youth of 
a seemingly amiable disposition, and with some 
talent and great taste for music and poetry. 
He had been well taught by his tutor, the wise 
Seneca, and was the idol of his mother, for in 
him she thought she saw the docile instrument 
of her most daring ambitions. 

For a few days Hector found little to do be- 


luxuriously fitted up, where only hio immediate 
family and friends were present. It was a spe- 
cial mark of favor to be invited to join him at 
these informal but exquisitely served meals, and 
one thus singled out was puffed up with pride 
for a week, at- least. 

In order to introduce Hector into his house- 
hold, Aulus had appointed him to an office 
similar to that of groom of the chambers, which 
really meant, in this case, that the young Greek 



“No, sire; I was thinking— one does sometimes, you know.”— See page 33. 


yond settling himself in his new surroundings. 
He was not lodged with the other guards in the 
barracks, but had a room in the palace which 
was comfortably fitted up, and ate at the table 
in the great hall, where he, with several other 
favorites, among whom were the page Lucian, 
the secretary Tlieopliilus, a poet or two, and a 
centurion, occupied the raised dais at one end 
of the long table, surrounded by couches, the 
rest of the household being accommodated a 
step below, upon stone benches. Occasionally 
their young lord condescended to eat with them, 
but not often. He was, indeed, frequently a 
guest at the Emperor’s table, and when at home 
liked best to sit at meat in a smaller room, most 


daily trained his ambitious lord in athletics, and 
wrestled with him till the latter was fain to 
cry. “ Enough!” In the two or three hours thus 
spent Hector always felt that he well earned all 
these favors, for while the brave Aulus was con- 
stantly crying to him to “ Lay on!” and come at 
him harder, the Greek knew that he must not 
leave so much as a small bump on that fair 
flesh, and the effort to “ seem ” yet not to “ do ” 
became a real penance, beside which the hearty 
blows he received in return were as nothing. 

In fact, these words might fitly describe all 
Hector’s life, now, and that of most of those 
around him. It was brave seeming, but alas, 
such feeble doing! Even Seneca, the grave and 



38 


T1IE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


reverend philosopher, soon began to show him- 
self insincere in the youth's keen eyes, or else 
how could he so constantly write and talk of the 
doctrine of extreme simplicity, extolling its de- 
lights by the hour, and yet revel in every attain- 
able luxury? Did he not own those much-prized 
tables of citron wood ending in ivory feet, not 
by the dozen or score, but by the hundreds? 
and was not his villa set down amid gardens 
which on one occasion had even excited the envy 
of an Emperor? Then there was Nero, the young- 
aspirant to the purple. It was the fashion every- 
where to praise his beauty, his voice, his poems, 
his good .judgment, and his amiable disposition. 
Yet Hector soon discovered that his talents were 
but mediocre; and as for his disposition, it hap- 
pened one day that a slave was being whipped 
in the court-yard just as the young prince 
started to cross it, before mounting his horse. 

Hector, watching, saw Nero follow the move- 
ments of the lictor and his whimpering charge, 
a mere child, then stop to watch with a look of 
intense satisfaction the preparations at the 
stake. Hector turned away, then, for the first 
scream of the poor creature was enough for him, 
but a moment later he was startled by a laugh, 
and glanced around to see the “ amiable ” young 
prince laughing and clapping his hands at every 
blow of the cruel lash, in a perfect ecstasy of 
evil enjoyment. 

From that day the boy’s softly-colored face, 
though wreathed in smiles, was to Hector but 
a mask for a cruel heart, and no one could 
convince him that the idol of Rome and the 
toast of the poets was not pitiless to the 
core. More: he was certain that Aulus Clotius 
felt the same, though self-interest closed his lips. 
For, like all the others, Aulus was brave only 
upon the surface. He could fight like a tiger, 
but in this courtly atmosphere he was weak and 
cowardly where he should have been strong, 
effeminate where he should have been bold and 
manly, silent where he should have spoken out 
in thunder tones. All these things the Greek 
felt keenly, and they often made his easy life a 
burden of discontent and self-disgust. 

Ere long he had so completely won the con- 
fidence of his master that he was given the 
honorable post of special knight to the women of 
the household, whenever they went abroad. At 
the head of from two to four guards he attended 
their chariot, or basterna, and in this office the 
faces of Pamphylia and Julia soon became 
familiar to him. 

The first-named was a dignified, gray-haired 
matron with dark, sad eyes, but a beautiful 
smile, and her voice was plaintively sweet. She 
was always gentle, and it was evident that the 
gay, bright Julia, the bride of a year, loved her 
well, They were constantly together, and 
usually accompanied by Julia’s nurse, a little 
woman full of chatter, and Pamphylia’s com- 
panion, This latter was a young captive maid 
from Gaul, slender, dark-eyed and agile, with 


t lie grace and also the timidity of a fawn. 
Something about her vaguely suggested Salome 
to Hector, and this made him watch her more 
closely than he might otherwise have done, and 
as he soon became a great favorite with all the 
ladies, he often found opportunity to exchange 
a word or two with her. 

One day, after a boxing contest with his lord, 
which had been unusually exhausting, Aulus 
threw himself, panting, upon the couch and, 
after watching Hector, still fresh and full- 
winded, for a long minute, said brusquely: 

“Well, my boy, that was pretty well! Dost 
note how much stronger I am getting? I shall 
" make you puff too before many days.” 

Hector only smiled slightly at the banter, 
which he was used to, and the other, seeing his 
absent manner went on: “ Why, what megrim 
have you now? Are you regretting the Olympic 
games?” 

“ No, sire; I was thinking— one does some- 
times, you know— of my old home and friends.” 

“Ah, of that sister, eh? Verily, it is strange 
where she hath gone; is it not. lad?” 

Hector nodded. The homesick tears were so 
close that he could not speak. Aulus saw his 
emotion and respected it. The patrician was 
naturally kind-hearted— when kindness was no 
trouble — so he said gently: 

“You miss her, I see?” 

“ Yes, I do,” breathed Hector under his keen 
eyes. 

“ I know— I understand!” spoke up his master 
quickly. “ You need not be ashamed. Did you 
never hear about my sister. Hector?'’ 

“Yours, my lord? I did not know you ever 
had one.” 

“ Yes, it was years ago.” Aulus threw his 
arms above his head and gazed up at the ceiling. 
“ I can just remember her. She was three years 
my junior, and I thought her my special charge, 
for she was a tiny creature, dainty as a bird. 
My mother was bound up in her too; it nearly 
killed her when she—” 

“ Died?” cried Hector compassionately. 

“ No, no! I think that would have been easier 
to bear. She disappeared. That is all we know. 
One day we were playing in the court, and I ran 
into the house for a toy boat I wished to sail in 
the fountain’s basin. When I came back she 
was gone, and though we sought her high and 
low, spending money freely, we could never find 
a trace of her. Perhaps, if my father had been 
living, he could have done better at the search, 
but we had been orphans nearly a year, and my 
mother was young and inexperienced in crime. 
Her hair turned gray that twelvemonth, though 
she was not yet twenty-five.” 

“ Such are terrible griefs!” said Hector feel- 
ingly. “How old was the child?” 

“ Barely four,” responded Aulus sadly. “ The 
sweetest baby in the world. We called her 
Cleone.” 

Hector, looking sympathetically at his young 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


39 


master, thought no less of him because he sud- 
denly brushed the back of his hand across his 
eyes, and their common grief seemed to draw 
them more closely together. He stepped to his 
side and said feelingly: 

“ The brave and favored must have their trou- 
bles as well as the humble, my master. And this 
accounts for the young face and white locks of 
your beautiful mother.” 

Aulus turned and looked at him affectionately. 
“ Is’t not a dear woman, Hector? I am glad 
you admire her, for she likes and trusts you. 
So, too, does my merry Julia.” 

*‘Ali! she should make your heart sing for 
joy, my lord. Her very glance is sunshine.” 

“True, true! I hope I shall never sadden her 
with my wild ways.” 

At this moment Lucian the page appeared with 
a message for the master. “ Sire, if you are 
ready. Prince Nero wishes to consult you in re- 
gard to the musicians’ stand they are erecting 
for the spectacle. Can you attend him at once?” 


CHAPTER Xllt 
JUNIUS FAR ASTRAY. 

S ALOME was now thoroughly domesticated 
with the family of Junius and Elizabeth. 
She had no more hope of seeing her broth- 
ers, for though Junius finally exerted himself 
enough to make some inquiries as to the occu- 
pants of the prison, the keeper knew no one 
there answering to his description. This was 
not strange, for the summary manner in which 
Hector had been assigned to him, without name 
or complaint, had given him the impression that 
this unruly prisoner was a slave, an Impression 
confirmed by his abrupt release without trial, all 
at the command of one man— for, as the reader 
has possibly divined, it was Aulus Clotius who 
had sentenced as well as released him. To the 
jailer, therefore, Hector was simply the Roman 
slave undergoing punishment, and by no means 
a citizen of Philippi and a twice-crowned 
Olympionic. Thus the inquiries of Junius were 
answered most decidedly in the negative— the 
more so because this man was no favorite with 
the official. 

After a time Salome decided to give up the 
rental of the little house and remove her few 
belongings to her new home, where the ad- 
dition made a bright and pleasant change. At 
first Junius had demurred at taking in a new 
member, but as days passed and Salome proved 
helpful and quick to learn the trade, he made 
no further objection, and the maiden, having 
never known of his hostile attitude, was as un- 
conscious of his favorable one, for Elizabeth 
from the first treated her as a dear and welcome 
sister. 

The visit of Paul and his companions, with 


the exciting circumstances attending it, had 
greatly strengthened the little church of 
Philippi, and nearly doubled its membership. 
The converted jailer and Lydia proved active 
and influential members, bringing fresh means 
and renown into the assembly, and Elizabeth, 
though so quiet and humble, made her beautiful 
beliefs real in her calm, consistent life. 

Almost insensibly Salome imbibed her ideas 
and began to rule her conduct by them, and as in 
their frequent talks the real meaning of Christ’s 
life and death became instilled into her brain, so 
did its divine spirit and power take possession of 
her heart, until she was almost startled, one day, 
to find that her gods had become mere myths to 
her, and that Jesus was all-in-all. 

The summer was nearly over when she started 
out with Naclab one afternoon, to help him carry 
a lot of broad find shallow baskets to Lydia, she 
having ordered them for the bestowal of her 
various cloths after dyeing, pressing, and rolling 
into bales. Almost daily there were processions 
and offerings in acknowledgment of the bounti- 
ful harvests, and one of these blocked their way 
for some time, not at all to their regret, for, 
though neither of the two felt any religious in- 
terest in it, they liked to watch it simply as a 
spectacle. 

“ See, Nadab! There come the Vestals all in 
white and wreathed with wheat-ears— are they 
not pretty!’* cried Salome with all a child’s de- 
light. 

“ Yes— and look! Is not that a fine car all cov- 
ered over with corn and grain? Is that Ceres 
sitting under the canopy?” 

“ Of course. And that figure with the up- 
lifted horn is Fortuna, and that on the opposite 
corner with the fruit is Pomona, while Dionysus 
has the grapes and wine cask, and—” 

“Oh! there, there! Is not that Pan with the 
horns and goat’s beard and hoofs? What a noise 
he makes! And who are those, Salome?” 

“ They are Nymphs and Dryads. They look 
lovely in their sea-green and grass-green robes. 
What a pretty contrast to those rosy Hours!” 

As the procession moved by, there was a con- 
stant din of pipe and timbrel, with the ringing 
of tambourines and the clashing of cymbals. 
Into the midst of this somewhat irregular 
music the grotesque Pan broke, occasionally, 
with a hideous bellow, partly from his own 
strong lungs, partly from an oddly-shaped 
wind-instrument of several reeds fastened to- 
gether, which he held to his lips, meanwhile 
cutting some clumsy capers on his hoofs that 
sent all the children lining the way into shrieks 
of laughter. 

He who represented Dionysus (or Bacchus, 
as the Romans called him,) had also a part to 
play in this strange religious ceremony, for 
every little while he drew from his well-filled 
wine cask a gourd full, either for himself or 
some favored one in the shouting, surging 
crowd, and then he would reel, and leer, and 


40 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


drivel, in the disgusting semblance of an intoxi- 
cated man. 

Salome grew thoughtful as she watched the 
long line tile by, beginning with the gay group of 
the Hours, dressed all in rose color, and ending 
with a dancing trio of Graces, weaving long 
gayly-colored sashes in and about themselves as 
they kept up a sort of swaying movement, in 
time to the music. These constantly changed 
places to form new groupings, bewildering the 
eye with their airy postures and kaleidoscopic 
hues. When the last of the brilliant pageant 
had vanished in the dust-cloud kicked up by 
their many dancing feet, she walked silently 
along with Nadab, only vaguely hearing his ex- 
cited chatter. 

“ What is there in all that to help one in the 
real cares and sorrows of life?” she was think- 
ing, for loss and disappointment were aging the 
girl rapidly. “ It is a pretty show, it amuses for 
a moment— at least some of it— but that 
Dionysus made me shudder! I am glad Eliza- 
beth did not see him. I fear it would bring back 
the look I saw on her face the other night, when 
Junius reeled home so queer and cross. How 
can people laugh at anything so sad and low! 
How can they make a god of drunkenness! Oh, 
what did you say, Nadab? I was not paying at- 
tention.” 

“ I was saying that your people seem to think 
it is cunning to be overcome with wine, but 
mother does not. She thinks it is a sinful, dread- 
ful thing!” 

“ Do not say ‘ my people,’ ” said Salome 
quickly. “ I belong to you now.” 

‘‘That is well, sister! You are ours to keep, 
art not? And I will be both brothers in one. 
But I hope father will not see that procession, 
Salome.” 

“ I fear he will. Nadab; how can he help 
it? It will pass around and through the forum, 
and you know he is there so much.” 

“ Yes, of course. And I know how it will be. 
He will look on and laugh, and then he and the 
other men will think they want some wine, too, 
and they will go to old iEnan’s shop and drink 
till they are not themselves at all. It is too bad, 
Salome!” 

“ It is too bad! I see that plainly enough, 
child. How can anybody think such practices 
are right? Yet a few months ago I firmly be- 
lieved in them, myself. But once having known 
of Christ, such impurities revolt me.” 

They found Lydia seated in the large, cool 
family room of her house. Its latticed windows 
in front overhung the street, and in the rear 
opened upon a terrace leading down into the 
garden. Its floor was tiled, but a few rich rugs 
were laid about, on which cushions were piled 
invitingly, while, following the outward curve 
of each overhanging window, was a broad, well- 
cushioned divan. A marble slab, resting upon 
bending figures cut in bronze, was in the center 
and held a rose jar of East Indian workmanship, 


well filled with blossoms. The two or three 
oddly-shaped chairs were straight and trim, 
with a quantity of carving, but evidently more 
for show than use, as the cushions, couches, and 
low curving ottomans invited to easier positions, 
while the stately throne-like chairs were seldom 
used except in entertaining with greatest cere- 
mony persons of exalted rank. Plenty of 
draperies, and a few small but exquisite pieces 
of statuary, made the room homelike as well as 
beautiful. 

Lydia, who was seated among a heap of cush- 
ions near an open terrace window, spinning fine 
wool with a small distaff and wheel, looked up 
with a pleasant greeting, as the two were ush- 
ered in by a tiny slave boy. 

“Ah!” she cried, beckoning Salome to a seat 
close by, “ I was just thinking of you. First, be- 
cause we need the baskets at once; and second, 
because I need you.” 

“ I am at your disposal,” laughed the maiden, 
dropping easily into a nest of cushions by the 
other window. “ But first let me tell you my 
errand. Elizabeth says you are to keep out two 
denarii of the money for the baskets, to send to 
our Apostles, Paul and Silas, at Thessalonica. 
It is all we can possibly afford this time, for 
trade is dull, and — ” She did not finish her sen- 
tence, but with a hasty glance at Nadab changed 
confusedly to something else. 

“And what, Salome?” asked the boy curiously. 

“ Oh, nothing much. It will soon be winter, 
and then there is fuel to buy, and Nadab here 
needs another tallitli, naughty fellow!” shaking 
her finger at him merrily. 

The answer satisfied him, but Lydia, looking 
keenly at the girl, read between the lines. She 
too turned gayly to Nadab. 

“ I see you are getting restless indoors, like all 
boys,” she observed with a laugh. “ Go down 
the terrace, my son. till you find my pretty Per- 
sian cat, Alanna, and have a play with her. She 
will chase a ball and bring it back in her teeth, 
or lie flat on her back and pretend to be dead.” 

Nadab was off before the sentence was fairly 
out, and the woman nodded with satisfaction. * 

“ I thought that would dispose of him. He 
sees too much!” Then more gravely, “ Salome, 
what is the trouble at your house? You know I 
ask from friendship, not idle . curiosity. Is it 
anything I can help about?” 

“ It is the same thing, Lydia, only growing 
worse all the time.” 

“ You mean Junius? Has he been already dis- 
charged, then?” 

“Discharged?” The girl' started. “ What do 
you mean?” 

“ Then it has not come yet. I am glad for 
that! But it will, Salome. He is certainly going 
to lose his position.” 

“ Oh, oh! Who told you?” 

“ Our friend, the jailer. He says it will have 
to be. Junius neglects his chain-gang for the 
wine shop, and leaves them to do poor work, or 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


41 


none at all. The street commissioners are full 
of complaints. Then, of course, the poor 
wretches are likely to escape, when they com- 
prehend his constant condition, and that 
menaces public safety. I should not be sur- 
prised any day to learn they had risen up and 
overpowered him.” 

Salome shivered. “ Poor, poor Elizabeth! Rut 
does he know he is to lose his place, Lydia? 
Would he not do differently if he was warned?” 

“ He has been warned and threatened, but I 
do not think he fully understands just how 
much is implied. Remember, I am telling you 
in confidence, that together we may do some- 
thing in the matter. I do not want Elizabeth to 
know, yet. She is deeply troubled as it is— or 
would be but for her perfect trust in the wis- 
dom of Christ, who would not willingly afflict 
her— and I would spare her further worry.” 

“ But what can we do?” 

“ I intend to talk to him, to begin with,” said 
Lydia, with decision. “ It is not a common thing 
for a woman to admonish a man, I know, but 
for that very reason it may prove effectual. As 
for you, simply be good to her— relieve her of all 
you can in work and care, and keep up her 
spirits by constantly recalling the one subject 
she so dearly loves. I see nothing else, only,”— 
she rose and stepped to a tiny cabinet of ebony 
upon the wall and, unlocking its wee door, drew 
forth a silken purse. “ Here,” she said, “ is the 
money for the baskets— all of it. Tell her I ask 
as a favor to send her contribution this time.” 

“ Oh, she will object!” said the girl. 

“ She ought not. Are we not one in Christ? I 
have been prospered of God, only that I may 
assist those who have heavier burdens to bear. 
Surely you remember Christ’s command — ‘ Bear 
ye one another’s burdens’? That is binding 
upon her as well as me, for how can I share her 
burden if she will not let me so much as touch a. 
corner of it?” 

“ Ah, Lydia, if she could hear you she must 
submit! I will tell her, at any rate, just what 
you say. But alas! I fear I am but an extra 
burden upon her.” 

“ Nay, I do not think so. You have not failed 
to make yourself useful, and she loves you. But 
be more, even, now. Be cheerful, be gay, be 
constant in kindness and affection. Help her to 
live so close to the loving Christ that she will 
forget her cares, or hide them in His breast. It 
is the only way for the Christian. Each morn- 
ing should be a new birth into God’s good world, 
with the soul rising like a lark to sing His praise 
and learn His will. Thus trouble will catch the 
sun’s rays and become a shining thing, and 
peace will be where we had thought was care.” 

Salome gazed at Lydia with astonishment. It 
was a new thing for the often sorrowful woman 
to speak like this, and her face seemed to shine 
with the uplifting thoughts within. The girl 
resolved to be worthy of such friends and to 
stand by Elizabeth through good and evil report. 


A burst of laughter from Nadab, who had 
found the cat, and was racing up and down the 
paths with the pretty yellow fluff of fur, floated 
in to them on the soft air. 

“ He has noticed, too,” said Salome in a low 
voice. “ Lie sees his father at the wine shop, 
and it distresses him.” 

“I thought so, poor child! I misdoubt hard 
times are coming. But we will not borrow 
trouble— that is distrusting God. While we keep 
close to Him we are safe, whatever comes.” 

Salome went home with a new sense of her re- 
sponsibilities, and grew daily more womanly 
with the sweet desire to shield and serve her 
friend, so that Elizabeth often thought, “ Dear 
girl! What would I do without her?” 

For her heart was sore over her husband, who 
grew cold and cruel as the strong drink gained 
more and more complete mastery over him. She 
listened to Lydia’s arguments in regard to the 
donation, and after a moment’s pondering bowed 
her head. 

“ She is right,” she said gently. “ It would 
be only pride in me to refuse;” and felt that the 
loving gift sent by the growing church was 
partly her own, while all were oue, and God 
looked only at the heart. 

Yet another month slipped by before the blow 
fell. Several times during these few weeks 
Junius had lain all day upon his mat, too be- 
sotted to leave the house, and then the trembling 
wife was obliged to send word by Nadab that he 
was unable to attend to his duties. At length, 
one day, the boy came home almost crying. 

“ I wish you would not send me with that mes- 
sage again!” he whimpered to his mother. “ The 
men in the forum gates laugh and nudge each 
other, and father’s captain looks grave and 
stern. He turned and muttered something to the 
jailer to-day that sounded like ‘ This cannot go 
on!’ but I am not sure. What did he mean?” 

Elizabeth’s face blanched, and Salome, who 
was passing through the court where they stood, 
stopped at the word and stepped hastily to her 
side. 

“ Never mind, Nadab!” she said, cheerily. “ I 
will go along next time the father is ill, and if 
they laugh at us we will laugh back— laughing 
hurts nobody. Dear Elizabeth, let us sing while 
we weave. There is that lovely air you taught 
me the other day. When I sing that it seems as 
if nothing mattered here. To be ‘ forever with 
the Lord ’—just think of it! He who comforts 
everybody, who helps everybody, and who 
knows exactly how to do it. Come, you start it, 
dear.” ' 

The other smiled, and the color crept back to 
her cheek. She began with a faltering note or 
two, then gained strength and steadiness, until 
presently the two were singing with well- 
blended voices, their souls far above all earthly 
sorrow. 

Junius awoke from his deep, bestial slumber 
and at first wondered what paradise he had been 


42 


THE WEE STL EE OF PHILIPPI. 


transported to. Then he recognized the voices 
and began to feel his own aching head, furred 
tongue, and general wretchedness. 

“ I wonder what is the hour?” he thought. 
“ Frobably I shall be late at my post again, and 
get another rating from the captain— surly 
wretch! Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” 

The singing ceased suddenly, and a moment 
later she appeared in the doorway, her face still 
shining with its inward light. 

“ Oh, you heard at last, did you?” he grumbled. 
“ I never knew such people to keep up a noise as 
you are! How can anybody sleep in such a 
hubbub? What are you doing?” 

“ Weaving,” answered his wife in her low, 
sweet voice. 

“ And why are you not getting breakfast?” he 
snarled. 

She hesitated, glanced at the outer open door 
an instant, then pointed to a narrow sunbeam 
that lay upon the floor. He followed her glance 
and caught its meaning. The sun ray had passed 
the noon mark by many minutes. He raised 
himself hastily, then dropped back so giddy and 
sick that he could not sit up. 

“ It is past midday?” he questioned falter- 
ingly. “ Did— did you send word to my 
superior?” 

His wife nodded slowly. “ I did, Junius. I 
tried to rouse you first, but—” She shook her 
head to show the hopelessness of the attempt, 
and he muttered an oath. 

“ You ought to have made me get up, woman! 
They told me if it happened again— Well, get me 
something to eat, will you? Do not stand there 
staring like an image of Hecate! I must hasten, 
I tell you, before the working hours are quite 
over. Perhaps then all will be right.” 

At his first angry call Salome had run to pre- 
pare food, and in a trice Junius was off; but he 
did not come home for the evening meal, and the 
two women, listening and longing, felt with a 
sickening dread that all was not right, and 
might never be again. 

It was nearing midnight when he returned, 
so noisy and beside himself that Elizabeth 
hastily and imperiously ordered Salome away 
to her couch. # 

“ No, no,” she said as the girl tried to insist 
upon remaining. “ This is my trouble. You 
must not bear it more than is necessary. Go- 
go quickly! I can manage him best.” 

How she did it the frightened girl, listening 
for abuse, perhaps blows, never knew, but in a 
short time all was quiet in the little home, and 
for one night more they might sleep in peace. 
But the next morning when Nadab, accompanied 
by Salome, went to make his excuses to liis' 
superior, they found it was unnecessary. 

“ He is discharged,” said the captain bluntly. 
“ We have no need for such as he.” 

Then his eyes met Salome’s, above her veil, 
and their sadness softened him. 

“ I am sorry,” he said more leniently, “ but 


the place has been given to another. Junius 
might have retained it if he had kept himself in 
order, but he would not. Let Dionysus look 
after him now!” And turning on his buskined 
heel, he left them. 

“ Oh, Salome, what shall we do?” said the boy, 
half-crying. “ Winter is coming on and we 
have nothing ahead, for you know father has pot 
helped at all lately. Mother and you have been 
doing everything. What will we do?” 

The girl sighed. “ I must learn to be still more 
of a help,” she said musingly. “ But what is 
there beside the weaving — hark, Nadab! Who is 
calling us?” 

They looked around and saw the captain 
hastening towards them. He was a young man 
of a good disposition, and his pity had been 
touched by their evident distress. He hurried 
to their side and said hastily: 

“ Fair maiden, would you like to earn a gold- 
piece?” 

Salome looked up, startled. “ Why, yes, sir,” 
she said quickly. “How?” 

“ We want one or two more beautiful 
Bacchantes for the Lensea, or Feast of Wine- 
pressing,” he explained, “ and you would do 
well. Each is furnished her gauzy costume, 
her flower wreath, a measure of wine, and the 
gold-piece.” 

During this speech Salome stood perfectly 
still, and the young man could see, even beneath 
her veil, the color surging into and o-ut of her 
expressive face, as the thoughts surged to and 
fro in her awakened soul. Once she would have 
considered this a compliment, if not an honor, 
for only beautiful girls were chosen for this ser- 
vice, and though Hector might not have allowed 
his orphaned sister to join in the mad revel, 
which all the better class of pagans looked upon 
with doubt, yet he would have been pleased tnat 
she was given the chance to refuse. Now, 
however, the very thought of its lewd songs and 
dances sickened her. But just as she was about 
to utter an emphatic “ Nol” came another sug- 
gestion: 

“ Here is an opportunity to earn more money 
than 1 can make in many days at the weaving. 
Ought 1 not to put my personal feelings by and 
do this for Elizabeth?” 

Seeing the agitation and hesitation of the 
maiden, the young pagan began gently urging 
her. 

“ You need not join the closing revels if they 
offend you. Only show yourself in the proces- 
sion, the libations, and first dance to the gods; 
then you can slip away before the wine has be- 
gun to work and the crowd grow mad with 
gayety. Come, think of it !” 

Salome did think of it, and recoiled more and 
more. She had not yet fully learned the horror 
of these unholy rites that all Christians felt, but 
his last words called up a scene which banished 
her unselfish wish to help her friend. Even her 
good motive could not condone such an act! 


THE WEE STEER OF PHILIPPI. 


Why, what would she be doing but countenanc- 
ing Junius in his sin— but uplifting his degrada- 
tion into a religious ceremony? How incon- 
sistent! How hideous! 

She drew herself up proudly and looked 
straight into the captain’s eyes, her own flash- 
ing with indignant feeling. 

“Be a Bacchante!” she cried scornfully. “I, 
a Christian maiden? Sir, you greatly mistake 
me if you think I could do such a thing, even to 
keep us from starvation. And, furthermore, it 
seems to me singular enough that an officer of 
your rank and judgment should discharge a man 
for too fond worship of Bacchus in one minute, 
and in the next try to win a pure maiden to his 
service. Such inconsistencies may belong to 
the gods you serve, but not to the Holy One 
whom I love.” 

She bowed low, gathered her veil closer, and 
turned proudly away. The captain watched her 
graceful figure till it was hidden behind one of 
the booths in the forum, an almost dazed ex- 
pression on his face. Then he slowly turned, 
gathered himself together, and strolled thought- 
fully back to the hall of justice. 

“ A doctor of laws could not have put it bet- 
ter!” he muttered. “ I never should have looked 
at it in that way, certes— and what glorious 
eyes she has! I have a great mind not to join 
the procession myself, now. Something in her 
look made it suddenly seem horrible to me— and 
it does leave a bad taste behind, ’tis true. But 
to think that little girl should have thought it 
all out so quickly!” And, laughing inwardly, he 
returned to his duties, the first Christian sug- 
gestion of his life having found lodgment where 
it must remain, until it could grow into some- 
thing— either a stunted plant, or a spreading, 
all-embracing tree. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE WANDERINGS OF AGISTHA. 

W HEN, a few months before this, Herklas 
and his three Jewish companions left 
the cave of Pergoman at the first glim- 
mer of daylight, they hastened on their way to 
Ampliipolis, from whence, by leisurely stages, 
they meant to pass on to Tliessalonica, nearly a 
hundred miles southwest of Philippi: a free city 
governed by its own politarchs, or magistrates, 
without interference from Rome. 

It was a populous seaport and quite a Jewish 
center, a large share of its population being of 
that nationality. The wise Paul had quickly 
discovered its advantages for spreading the 
truth abroad, as upon its streets could be seen 
representatives from every country, conse- 
quently the gospel told in this market-place was 


43 

likely to be carried to all parts of the known 
world. 

Our four friends had news that Paul intended 
to be there shortly, so they desired to make it 
their own headquarters during their daily jour- 
neys among the agricultural people back from 
the coast. For, as traveling traders, they visited 
the remotest farms along their route, bringing 
to them not only needed goods, but spiritual help 
and gladness. 

It was a busy yet happy life in many ways. 
Each morning they rose at early dawn, and after 
a cold lunch from their scrips, tramped for two 
hours or so in the cool of the day, to eat a hearty 
meal with some family who was glad to ex- 
change food for merchandise. Then, during 
the noonday heats, they sought shade and rest. 
Sometimes they slept in a welcome grove; 
oftener they gathered a few farmers also taking 
the noon rest, in vineyard or orchard, and con- 
versed with them upon the subject close to their 
hearts, starting on their way once more as soon 
as the fresh afternoon breezes began to blow in 
from the sea; and from thence till late into the 
summer evening they journeyed, sold, and 
taught. 

They had a common purse, and Herklas, being 
a good accountant, soon became their purser. 
Nor was it a troublesome position, for money 
really meant almost nothing to them. Their lives 
were already “ bought with a price,” and they 
cared only to supply each day’s needs, that they 
might not become public burdens in a strange 
country. Thus casting all care upon their Lord, 
and walking in the constant glow of love, hope, 
and consecration, the little worries and hard- 
ships of a day were swallowed up in a lofty pur- 
pose and a holy joy, which gave their homely 
lives dignity and peace. 

They had supposed that the girl, Agistha, 
would upon waking return to her people within 
the city walls, so dismissed her from their minds 
when they had supplied her with a good break- 
fast, and stole softly out, leaving her in a sound, 
refreshing sleep. She, however, had no such 
intention. Starting out with only the vaguest 
idea of distances or directions, she determined 
to go to Neapolis, in hope of finding some work 
to do there, but took the wrong road, and pres- 
ently found she was in a part of the country 
quite strange to her. 

She was not specially troubled by this, how- 
ever, for so long as she kept to the Roman high- 
way she knew she must in time reach some 
populous town. She had, indeed, taken the route 
to Ampliipolis, thirty miles distant, and long be- 
fore the day ended was glad to stop at a small 
hamlet on the way, and seek food and counsel. 

It was not an inviting spot— a few low, dirty- 
looking huts of mud, with outlying fields and 
orchards poorly kept. But seeing a girl coming 
from one of these, with a water jar upon her 
head, the traveler ventured to accost her. The 
girl stared at her a moment. Agistha was but 


44 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


scantly clothed, and had no veil except the linen 
grave-clotli, which she had managed to wind 
about her head and shoulders for a chlamys, 
while her pale, sad face, visible above the eyes, 
lacked the deep sun tan of a professional beggar. 

“ What do you want?” asked the girl finally, 
when she had gazed her fill. 

“ Food,” said Agistha, “ if you will be so kind. 
I am starving, and I have lost my way. I started 
for Neapolis, but—” 

The girl laughed. “ You are far from the 
road, then! This is the direct route to Am- 
pliipolis.” 

“Oh!” cried poor Agistha. “But that is far 
away, is’t not?” 

“ About eighteen miles from here, yes. How 
far have you come?” 

“ From Philippi.” 

The girl’s heavy face brightened with sudden 
interest. Evidently she had heard of Philippi 
before; perhaps she knew some one there. 

“You have had a long walk, and must be warm 
and tired.” 

“ I am,” said Agistha. 

“ You look as if you had been sick, too.” 

“Yes, I have.” 

“ Well, sit down there in the shade, and I will 
see what I can do for you.” 

The girl placed her tall jar on the ground and 
went into the house, from which she presently 
brought some coarse food to the weary traveler, 
who was so hungry and so unused to better fare 
that ^he received it eagerly. While she ate the 
girl lingered, and began to talk again. 

“ If you live at Philippi you must have heard 
about the two Christians whose chains were 
loosed by the earthquake a few nights ago; 
have you not?” 

Agistha looked up listlessly, and shook her 
head. “ No,” she said, “ I have been ill. I heard 
nothing.” 

“ It is a strange tale,” continued the girl, “ and 
I wonder you did not hear it. Some traders 
came along this morning and told us— one was 
such a handsome young Greek, but the others 
were Jews, and they were Christians, too.” 

At this Agistha looked up quickly. Could they 
be her helpful friends of last night? The girl 
babbled on, detailing, with some variations, the 
story of Paul and Silas, and as the escaped slave 
girl began to comprehend that it was her own 
story she was listening to in this remote hamlet, 
she forgot to eat and sat with parted lips, taking 
it all in. It was the first she had known of the 
imprisonment of Paul and his companions. She 
had been hurried away after the solemn adjura- 
tion of the former, and had been so ill subse- 
quently that she knew nothing of the tumult 
her masters stirred up later, nor the suffering 
which came upon those good men in conse- 
quence. 

For they must be good! Else how had their 
God loosed their chains in so wonderful a man- 
ner? And these kind men of the cavern were 


their friends and of the same faith, also! How 
she wished she had known it when with them! 
How she would have forced herself to keep 
awake and glean from their conversation some 
bits of knowledge about all these mysteries! 
One thing she was certain of— they were kinder, 
more gentle and courteous, than any men she 
had ever known. Oh, if only she had been able 
to learn just what made them so different! 

She began asking the girl questions as to the 
direction they had taken, and learned with joy 
that it was the same as her own. 

“ I will follow them!” she said to herself, with 
a quick resolve, and hurried to finish her meal, 
the vague intentions of the morning having now 
crystallized into a definite plan and undertak- 
ing. 

She said nothing to the girl, however. She 
would not have dared let her know how closely 
she had been associated with those events, lest 
by this her former masters might be able to 
track her. She had in one sense risen from the 
dead— let her make it so in every sense. She 
would leave the past life, with its ties, its sordid- 
ness, its sufferings, as if she had indeed died 
to it, and she would begin anew— clean, whole, 
and with honest intentions, if at the very lowest 
round. 

She warmly thanked the girl, bade her fare- 
well, and hastened onward, her goal Amphipolis, 
and her wish to know more of the- followers of 
Christ. Yet try her best, she could not reach 
there that night, but again sought rest and shel- 
ter by the way. The next day, as it was near 
ing the noon hour, she entered the city, weary, 
footsore, and almost despairing, where, dragging 
herself to the market-place, she sank down in 
the shade of one of the booths, wondering what 
she was to do next. 

At present she was too exhausted to do any- 
thing but rest. She huddled herself up under 
her once white mantle, now dingy with the dust 
of the road, and simply watched and waited. 
One or two compassionate passers-by threw her 
a mite or two, which she treasured securely un- 
til food should become necessary again. So the 
long day slid into evening, with nothing accom- 
plished. She had just risen 1o her feet, finally, 
faint with her long fast, and was about to buy a 
small oat-cake with her bits of money, wTien she 
started to See coming towards her at a brisk 
pace the youth who had been in her thoughts all 
day — Herklas. He was about to pass her by un- 
observed, when the desperate feeling that she 
might again lose sight of her only friend gave 
her courage to address him, 

“ Sir,” she said. “ I beg you will pardon my 
boldness, but are you not the young man who 
rescued a frightened girl from the place of 
tombs but lately?” 

Herklas looked at her with astonishment. She 
had her face well muffled, but the slender figure 
and weak, childish voice were the same. 

“ Yes,” he answered quickly, “ the maiden of 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


Philippi. But surely you are not she! How 
came you here so far away?” 

“ Oh, sir, I have escaped from cruel perse- 
cutors to whom I could not return. I am hunt- 
ing for work— for something to keep me that 
shall be honest— and you were all so kind to me 
before, I thought perhaps—” 

She stopped, for Herklas began to knit his 
brows in perplexity. Coming and going as they 
did, how could they stop to find employment for 
this poor girl? Even now he was hurrying to 
purchase supplies for the morrow, that they 
might be off that night. But Herklas had 
learned much of Christ’s spirit in these last few 
weeks, and the words which had been so often 
repeated to him, “ Inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these, ye have done it 
unto me,” had a literal meaning for him. To 
have passed this poor girl by unassisted would 
have been to neglect his Lord. 

“If only you were in Thessalonica now!” he 
said with a smile. “ We have friends there, and 
are ourselves going soon, but—” 

“ Oh, I will go there!” said Agistlia quickly. 
“It is a large, busy city, is it not? I couid 
surely find something to do.” 

“ But it is nearly seventy miles away, and— 
wait! let me think. I have it. I believe we can 
arrange for you. Wait here a few minutes till I 
go to see about it. I will come again soon.” 

Herklas had walked many miles that day in 
the hot sun, burdened by his pack of goods, and 
still had much to do before the morning, but this 
was “ for Christ,” and those magic words dis- 
pelled fatigue.' As the good soldier, weary with 
a hard march, is aroused to fresh zeal by his 
captain’s call f “To arms!” so Christ’s follower 
held his personal feelings in abeyance whenever 
there was a special call for his service. Not only 
his soul, but his body also, was the Lord’s; if it 
must be taxed unduly, that was His matter and 
He would make it right. The Christian soldier 
had but to obey orders — results were left, to God. 

Herklas hurried to the lodging-place of the 
four and sought out Thallus, who, as the oldest 
and most sedate, was the acknowledged leader 
of the group. To him he rapidly described his 
late interview, and the idea which had occurred 
to him for the girl’s assistance, and Thallus, 
after some reflection, answered: 

“ I think it will do. Go and speak to the stew- 
ard of the noble lady, while I return to the 
maiden and see if she be fed sufficiently. It is 
more fitting that a man of my age conduct her to 
the lady’s presence.” 

Herklas acquiesced and hastened away to a 
large caravansary some squares distant, where, 
crossing the court, which was well filled with a 
motley collection of men and beasts making 
ready for their start in the cool of the day, he 
sought out the host and asked for a certain man. 

Upon being conducted to his presence, Herklas 
bowed low before the somewhat gorgeously- 
attired individual, and said; 


“ Sir, your proclamation for a female servant, 
to take the place of one fallen ill in your lady’s 
train, was called early this morning in the mar- 
ket-place. Did you find one to your liking?” 

“ No, but we ceased the proclamation because 
the slave, Lucilla, seemed better, and we hoped 
would be ready to attend her mistress by night.” 

“ Then you no longer wish a maid?” 

“ Yes, because she is suddenly worse again, 
and must be left behind while my lady presses 
onward. She wishes to reach Thessalonica by 
the day after to-morrow, if possible.” 

“ Then, sir, I have in mind a young maiden 
who would be glad to go with her. She is docile 
in speech and manners, but not over-strong, 
yet—” 

“ Her duties will be light. Where is the girl?” 

“ My friend, Thallus, will soon bring her, I 
think. She has been sadly neglected and is so 
poor her clothing is in rags.” 

“ Oh, well, my mistress can supply clothing. 
What is her native tongue?” 

“ Greek.” 

“Very good! And you say she is of gentle 
manners?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

While they were talking together, Thallus was 
announced, and behind him, well wrapped in her 
chlamys, appeared the slave girl, shrinking tim- 
idly in his shadow. The steward questioned her 
a few minutes, learning that she was from 
further east, and had been abandoned when 
very ill and left to die; that she wished to leave 
the old life behind and earn a respectable living; 
that she was willing and— as he saw for himself 
—modest and soft of speech. Presently, then, 
he led her to the apartments of his lady, who 
was of exalted rank, and whose name was 
iEnone. 

She was hastening home to Thessalonica after 
a visit among friends at a mountain resort, and 
was hurrying in order to see her husband before 
his departure for Rome upon official business. 
She traveled with a long train of guards and 
slaves, as did all of high rank, but her special 
maid, upon whom she depended for personal at- 
tentions, had fallen seriously ill, delaying the 
journey for several hours. 

The steward, Cleoplias by name, formally pre- 
sented Agistlia as an applicant for the situation, 
then at a sign from his mistress withdrew, leav- 
ing the two together. 

iEnone was a young matron of fine presence 
and keen, bright eyes. She was lounging upon a 
couch playing with a beautiful boy of perhaps 
three summers, but as the man retired she sat 
up and beckoned Agistlia forward. 

“ Come nearer,” she said in a pleasant, decided 
sort of voice; “ let me see your face.” 

The girl obeyed, dropping her apology of a 
veil, and stood meekly before the grand dame. 

“ You do not look very strong, yourself,” said 
the latter presently. 

“ I am only weary, madam, I have walked so 


46 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


far. You will find me industrious, and stronger 
than I look.” 

“ Well, perhaps so. Your face is honest, at 
least, and I have no time to be particular, as we 
must start inside of a lialf-hour. Take her, 
Chloe,” turning to a dark-skinned slave woman 
who was plying a great fan above her mistress’ 
head, “ and give her clothing befitting my at- 
tendant. But remember, there is no time to 
lose.” 

The slave bowed low, and passed the fan to a 
small page not over eight years old, who had 
been crouched on the rug by the couch, and now 
scrambled to his feet. He was fair-haired and 
sturdy of build, and, Agistlia learned later, a 
little Briton, recently bought from the new im- 
portation of captives sent from that unhappy 
country, whose king, Caractacus, was now lan- 
guishing in chains at Rome. He had been sent 
to iEnone as a choice gift by a friend in that 
city. 

After a brief delay the women returned, 
Agistlia so greatly improved in appearance that 
her new mistress broke into a pleased laugh. 

“ Why, you are truly fair!” she cried, frankly. 
“ I am glad, for I like bright and charming 
things about me.” 

As she ceased speaking Cleophas appeared to 
say that all was in readiness for his mistress to 
depart. At this Chloe made Agistlia a sign and 
placed in her hand a long veil and mantle, the 
former of finest Indian lawn, the latter of silk 
from Persia, woven with gold thread till it glit- 
tered with every movement. 

“ Go wrap the mistress carefully in these, then 
follow her to her litter and see that she lias 
everything she needs. I follow 7 with the little 
master, Ian, for I am his nurse.” 

Agistlia, trembling a little, obeyed, but as she 
began her unusual task it seemed as if some 
former knowledge came to her. She could re- 
member some other lady standing thus to be 
wrapped in silken garments, and herself in some 
far-gone time looking on with a feeling of im- 
patience at the delay. Only once or twice did 
iEnone correct her, and then by no means 
harshly, though with a decision wilicli enforced 
obedience. 

“ There, that will do,” she said presently, pull- 
ing the veil a trifle looser about the mouth and 
nostrils. “ Follow 7 me with the baby, Cliloe. 
Where is Harold?” 

She beckoned to the Briton boy, wiio as yet 
understood but few^ words of Greek, though lie 
was learning rapidly, and the little train pro- 
ceeded to the court-yard. 

Here several laden camels and asses were 
slowly filing out to the road, and others stood 
waiting. Forming a line on either side of the 
doorway were eight mounted guards in hand- 
some liveries of blue with steel trappings, w t 1io 
remained like so many statues while the some- 
what fussy Cleophas assisted his lady and her 
women to their places. 


First JEnone entered a litter of dainty shape 
and lightness, mostly built of bamboo, the 
cushions and curtains displaying her special 
colors, blue and steel. In another lectica 
scarcely less handsome Chloe and her little 
charge were seated, while Agistlia and the page, 
Harold, were placed upon the houdah, or cov- 
ered saddle, of a kneeling camel just beyond. 
Agistlia w 7 as slightly frightened at the prospect 
of a ride in such a position, but Harold laughed, 
showing his milk-white teeth, and making even 
the dignified Cleophas smile with sympathetic 
pleasure. 

Agistlia watched the four Nubian bearers, 
wiiite-turbaned and naked to the w r aist, lift the 
poles of tlieir lady’s lectica to their cushioned 
shoulders and step to position; the others, bear- 
ing the little Ian and nurse, followed; then her 
camel rose swaggeringly from his bended knees 
with a long-drawm yaw r n, and like clock-w 7 ork 
the eight guards formed a hollow square about 
the precious family, one in front, one in the rear, 
and three on each side. 

With a last look, to be sure all were comfort- 
able, Cleophas mounted and rode up and down, 
getting the w-hole train in motion, for this w r as 
but its head, and the rest of the long, serpent- 
like body was waiting to fall into line outside. 
As they trailed out through the city gates in the 
twilight Agistha had just a glimpse of four men, 
foot-passengers with packs on their backs, walk- 
ing in the same direction, and was pleased to see 
that they joined the pedestrians in the rear, hav- 
ing evidently put themselves under the protec- 
tion of this caravan for the short* night journey 
to the next caravansary. 

But the following morning wiien she looked 
for them they were nowiiere to ife seen. They 
had doubtless risen at daybreak and gone their 
w r dy. Would she meet them at Thessalonica? 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE POLIT ARCH’S FAMILY. 

NONE was the Greek wife of one of the 
politarchs who ruled the city of Thes- 
salonica, Gaius by name, and was a 
woman of marked individuality and exceptional 
talents. She w r as musical, playing both the lyre 
and the viol, to w 7 hich she sang encliantingly, 
and she was learned in the history and philos- 
ophy of her nation. She had studied thought- 
fully the complicated and poetic mythology of 
both Greece and Rome, and, having consider- 
able reasoning powders, she- always felt they 
lacked the elements necessary to control her 
heart and life. She could not readily yield up 
her conscience to beings wiio w r ere constantly 
liable to errors, and who w r ere capable of the foi- 
lies and petty foibles of humanity. She felt that 



TIIE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


the god she worshiped must have some great- 
ness other than power, and must above all 
things be perfectly pure and true. She even 
went so far as to say that this being must be so 
above every human passion as to express a love 
that was universal and impartial, yet intense 
and personal as well, and a justice so absolute it 
could not err, either on the side of mercy or 
severity. Gods who could love and hate, stoop 
to retaliation and bickerings, spy upon each 
other and show childish envy and malice, ex- 
cited only her ridicule, though they might be 
the accepted deities of her country. 

She could talk well on these subjects, and liked 
nothing better than to entertain her husband's 
friends at dinner, and enter into their deep dis- 
cussions afterwards. She was looked upon as a 
skeptic, in consequence, and was in great dis- 
favor with the pagan priests, who knew her influ- 
ence was all against them. One or two Jewish 
rabbis who had been admitted to her home, 
claimed that she was greatly attracted towards 
their religion; though this she did not quite con- 
firm. She explained that while its fundamental 
ideas were based on great truths, speaking to 
the inmost soul of man, yet these had become so 
overloaded with trivial forms and ceremonies 
as to have all spirituality smothered out of them 
by exactions as belittling as the superstitions of 
her own Greek religion. So, like most educated 
pagans of the day, she held herself aloof from 
all creeds, and gave only an outward respect to 
the rites of her priests. 

Her suite made the journey to Thessalonica 
rapidly, reaching there the next morning but 
one, and Agistha watched with great interest 
their progress through the busy streets of the 
populous city overlooking the blue sea. 

It being situated upon a jutting tongue of 
high, rocky foundation, the streets rose, terrace- 
fashion, directly from the shore, and the rolling 
land back of the city swept away into hills and 
peaks, whose green sides were divided into large 
and beautiful gardens, while the white houses 
of the lower city nestled amid the deep green 
foliage of palm and date trees, relieved oc- 
casionally by the cold gray-green of the olive. 

To one of these suburban gardens our party 
took their way, but long before reaching it 
were met by another little company of half a 
dozen mounted men, whose rich costumes, half 
civic, half military, bespoke their rank. The 
foremost was Gaius himself, a tall, slender man 
of proud carriage, who rode like a centaur. He 
now dashed forwards, his f|ce alight with joy, 
to greet wife and child, and was soon riding by 
the side of the first litter, his boy lifted to tile 
saddle in front of him, while yEnone leaned 
eagerly out to watch the two with love-liglited 
eyes. 

The other men, friends and relatives, having 
greeted her also, considerately held back their 
horses a little, leaving the two to their rapid in- 
terchange of question and comment. 


47 

“ You are late; I expected you last night,” said 
Gaius. 

“ Yes, and we should have been here but for 
Lucilla, who was taken ill on the road and de- 
layed us some hours at Amphipolis. I found an- 
other maid, however, so I left her to be cared for 
by two of the pack slaves, who will bring her on 
as soon as she is able to travel. But tell me, 
dear, why must you go to Rome?” 

“ Oh, it is on account of these Jewish troubles, 
I believe.” 

“ Jewish? I thought they had been very quiet 
ever since their outbreak under Caligula.” 

“ So they have, but they are a seditious, un- 
easy set, and Caligula’s persecutions only 
quelled, not subdued them. We always have to 
keep a close eye upon them, and there are 
rumors afloat that seem to need looking into.” 

“ I see. But so many of them are good friends 
of ours! I do hope you will not be called upon to 
work them any mischief.” 

“ ‘ Mischief ’! Really, my lady, that is an odd 
way to speak of your Emperor's rule.” 

She laughed with him. “ Well, you know 
well enough what I mean. I have, somehow, 
a natural antipathy to the stirring up of such 
things. If I had to hold a throne by killing 
everyone who looked askance at it, I should de- 
scend and sit on the ground. What is claimed 
against them now? That same matter of a new 
king?” 

“ Probably. I really do not know. And as 
likely as not this is only another of Claudius’ 
annual scares— one never knows. If he had half 
the bravery of his wife, he would be quite a 
man.” 

“ Have a care, Gaius! We are in the open 
street. You would not wish him to possess her 
wickedness, too?” 

“ No, but sometimes weakness is worse than 
wickedness— in a ruler. How Ian has grown— 
bless his little heart! And you are looking- 
charming, my Wife. The mountain air agrees 
with you.” 

“ I am glad you think so, Gaius. With your 
presence, our little trip would have been per- 
fect. It seems too bad we should have to be 
separated again so soon. When do you start?” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“ So soon?” 

“ Yes, it must be. So you have had to be your 
own maid?” 

“ Oh, no; I found another at Amphipolis, and 
she has proved a real treasure. She was brought 
me by some traders— such a pale, frightened lit- 
tle creature, and in rags— but she is really grow- 
ing fair to see, with good food and treatment. 
You must— oh, Gaius! is that safe? How your 
horse plunges! Do give me the baby!” 

“ Entirely safe,” laughed her husband. 
“ Why, this is Selim, my new Arabian, priceless 
for fidelity, though full of his play at times. Is 
he not a beauty?” 

“ In truth he is! His coat is like satin. Ah, 


48 


TIIE WPESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


there is the dear old home! How beautiful it is! 
1 never so realized it before. The garden is like 
a brocade pattern from Persia, with its many 
colors. Do tell my bearers to stop at the gate. 
I want to walk up the terraces and see how the 
roses are doing— though it is late for them, I 
know.” 

“ Yes, they are past their prime, but very fine 
yet. I will walk with you. Yes, yes, my boy; 
you shall ride still, if you like, and father will 
lead the pony for his little man. Now hold tight, 
my son.” 

Agistha, watching the trio, felt her heart con- 
tract with a sudden spasm of pain. It was not 
envy — she rejoiced in their joy— but more as if 
she had witnessed something of which she ought 
to be a part. It appeared for an instant to trans- 
port her into another existence, where she be- 
held like scenes of refined love and happiness, 
amid pleasant surroundings. There ought to be 
a fourth, though — a little girl, who seemed 
mingled with her own identity, clinging to the 
lady’s gown, and with breathless interest watch- 
ing the boy on the big horse. 

These strange, dream-like suggestions came to 
her only at such moments, when all about her 
were grace, beauty, and affection, and she felt, 
sadly that they could not be memories, unless of 
some former life in a sphere brighter and better 
than she had ever known here. 

When the company had entered the wide villa- 
like mansion, surrounded by broad, pillared gal- 
leries, Agistha hastened forward to wait upon 
her mistress, a task she was learning through af- 
fection to perform deftly and well. For yEnoue 
won the hearts of those who served her. She 
was even in temper, decided in her commands, 
and just in judgment. She did not expect im- 
possibilities, but quietly insisted upon con- 
scientious service, and while her slaves were 
never publicly, and seldom privately punished, 
her friends said they were more faithful than 
most slaves. Be that as it may, the mere threat 
of being sold brought the most unruly of them 
to terms, and their only idea of a promotion was 
to be given a service nearer the mistress. 
Agistha felt that she had been fortunate in 
securing such a place, and was most grateful to 
the Christian men for it. She kept a sharp look- 
out for them every time her duties called her 
upon the street, and longed inexpressibly for a 
chance to thank them in person. 

She saw nothing of them, however, and had 
almost given up expecting to do so, having set- 
tled down to her pleasant life amid these new 
surroundings with little desire for change. 
Several weeks had passed when one Sabbath 
her mistress came in from a drive in the new 
chariot with the baby and his nurse, and said: 

“ Agistha, I wish you to accompany me out 
after the noon meal. Have on your street at- 
tire.” 

Agistha watched the sun-dial eagerly that 
afternoon, pleased at the prospect, and when it 


marked the ninth hour she and /Enone, closely 
veiled and plainly wrapped, started off on foot, 
an unusual proceeding for the somewhat luxu- 
riously-inclined lady. They walked rapidly, 
Agistha keeping respectfully an arm’s length be- 
hind, and after crossing several streets, made 
their way into a large structure built of marble 
from one of the quarries not far distant, and rich 
in gilding. 

The pagan girl thought it could not be a tem- 
ple, however, for it lacked the many statues and 
images she was used to seeing, so was puzzled 
when they had entered, to find herself in the lat- 
ticed gallery of a place where people had evi- 
dently congregated for worship. 

It was, in fact, a magnificent Jewish syna- 
gogue, very unlike the small structure at 
Philippi. yEnone made her way to a seat with 
the deftness of one familiar to the place, and 
they were soon comfortably settled close be- 
hind the gilded lattice-work, almost overlooking 
the raised seats of the rabbis just below the dais 
and desk of the Presbyter. 

Agistha looked curiously at the symbols about 
the altar, none of which had any significance to 
her; admired a long, richly-embroidered curtain 
just behind a white-draped table, and wondered 
over a tiny door in the wall behind the desk. 
But as she glanced towards the rabbis’ seats she 
caught her breath in astonishment. There, con- 
spicuous among the bearded elders, were the 
two good men of Philippi! 

Even while she gazed one rose— the very one 
who had commanded the evil spirit to come out 
of her— and stepped to the desk. An attendant 
brought him one of the Scripture rolls from the 
niche in the wall (thus relieving Agistha’s curi- 
osity about the little door), and, unrolling it, he 
began to read. 

His voice was full, sonorous, and majestic. 
Agistha felt rather than saw her mistress press 
closer to the grating, and she too bent forward 
eagerly. He read but a short time from the 
psalms and prophecies, then began to talk in a 
conversational and winning tone, setting before 
his hearers in a confident manner the true un- 
derstanding of the Messiah— “ that He must suf- 
fer and die, and rise again from the dead,” and 
after presenting this to his listeners most con- 
vincingly, he declared in a fearless tone: 

“ And Jesus whom I preach unto you is this 
Messiah!” 

A murmur ran through the assembly as he 
wound up the roll and returned to his seat. At 
once another rabbi sprang to his feet, asking 
questions and raising doubts, while from that 
time till the closing benediction the first speaker 
was kept busy answering, denying, persuading 
and correcting, all with a calmness and decision 
that made every word forcible. 

Through the whole Agistha listened almost as 
intently as her better-informed mistress, for 
though a great deal of it was beyond her com- 
prehension, she could and did understand that 


49 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI 


this Jesus, the Messiah, was He whom her 
friends of the cave worshiped and loved. Know- 
ing this, and believing fully that Paul was “ a 
servant of the Most High,” she accepted Jesus 
with the faith of a little child. Once she turned 
to look at ^Hnone. and saw that her gray eyes 
above the veil were intent and almost tearful, 
while in her complete absorption she seemed to 
have no senses but those of sight and hearing. 

At length the service was over, and as the 
two women lingeringly turned to go. Agistha 
felt sure she had .lust a glimpse of tjie youth 
Herklas, and another man— a small, bright-eyed 
person— pressing forward as if to speak to Paul 
and his companion: but the next instant they 
were lost in the crowd and she was obliged to 
hurry after her mistress, lest they be separated, 
for the synagogue was large, and to-day tilled 
to its utmost capacity. 

After they had reached home and Agistha had 
ordered some refreshment for her mistress, they 
wandered out to one of the wide galleries open- 
ing upon the inner garden, and the maid began 
playing with the little Ian, while his mother 
sipped her chocolate and watched them thought- 
fully. At length she said, suddenly: 

“Agistha, where were you brought up? You 
really seem to have no religion. You pray 
neither to the gods nor the fates, you wear no 
amulets, you never consult the oracles, nor 
study the stars. What are you, I would like to 
ask?” 

Agistha blushed and looked almost frightened. 
This seemed, even to her unawakened mind, a 
grave charge. 

“ I fear I am nothing, my lady,” she said very 
humbly. 

HHiione burst out laughing. “ You need not look 
so frightened! Do you feel too humble to ad- 
dress yourself to any god? That is the way you 
act. It is not a common attitude, I assure you. 
No matter how low a man may fall, he always 
seems to think he has a special claim upon his 
gods!” 

Agistha during this speech had been trying to 
collect herself. She was fond of her mistress, 
but somewhat afraid of her, too. At length she 
answered timidly: 

“ I mean I was never taught, madam. No one 
told me anything except how to chant the 
oracles, so—” 

“The oracles? You chant the oracles! What 
do you mean, child?” 

“ I was possessed of the spirit of Python, my 
lady— so my masters said— and they made me do 
it. Sometimes I could not— then they beat and 
starved me; then my mind would get all con- 
fused and I would say whatever Flavius willed, 
and then they treated me better; but I was 
wretched all the time, and in my clear moments 
I knew it was a lie:” 

“ You poor child! And did you run away from 
them ?” 

“ Oh, no; they took me to the tombs, and—” 


“ What?” 

‘ And left me there for dead. But for some 
reason they did not bury me.” 

“ Horrible! Horrible!” 

“ When I woke from the long sleep I lay on 
the bier and I was frightened, for it had been 
raining, and now everything glistened under the 
moon, and all was so still and strange I thought 
I must be in some other world. Then some one 
told me not to be frightened, and came to my 
aid. It was the young man who helped me get 
my situation with you, madam—” 

“ Indeed!” 

“ And lie took me to a cave where were three 
other good men who were very kind to me. They 
gave me food, and spread their abbas down for 
me to rest upon before the fire, then talked low 
and gently till I fell asleep; and when I woke 
next day they had gone, leaving me a nice meal 
to break my fast. I was following them here 
when I saw Herklas, as they called him, in the 
market-place, and begged his help. Then he 
and the stern elderly man brought me to you. 
I have found since that they are Christians, my 
lady, and if you please I would like to be a 
Christian too.” 

“How strange this all seems!” said yEnone 
musingly, with only a passing smile at the girl’s 
simplicity. “ What then did you think of the 
Christian Apostle who spoke to-day?” 

“Oh! madam, that is strangest of all.” And 
Agistha, warmed to a communicativeness un- 
exampled in her previous experience, then told 
the tale of her first meeting with these Apostles 
in Philippi, throwing herself upon the protection 
of her mistress to keep her from those bad men, 
her former masters. 

^Enone listened with many a sharp question 
and exclamation. The narrative intensely in- 
terested her. At once her speculative mind be- 
gan to question and assert. Why had it been 
so clearly revealed to this childish person that 
the men were divinely appointed? She remem- 
bered something she had once heard in regard to 
the prophecies of Jesus, the crucified Nazarene, 
and tried to recall it now. What was it? That 
certain things should be hid from the wise and 
made clear to babes? Something like that, 
surely. Strange how constantly His utterances 
returned to her, when once she had heard them! 
He had certainly not succeeded in establishing 
a Jewish kingdom, but what if this Paul was 
right, and the only kingdom his Master wished 
to bring upon earth was that governing men's 
hearts and lives? 

She looked up and broke into a gay laugh, as 
if shaking off some mental disquiet. 

“ How foolish you are, Agistha!” she cried. 
“ You certainly must be better taught! One 
can not put on religion like a garment. And so it 
was a Christian youth who helped you in your 
extremity? Was he a Jew?” 

“ I think not, my lady. He spoke and looked 
like a Greek, though the others were Jews. He 


50 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


was like the statue of Apollo, tall and shapely, 
but with a more beautiful face, madam, for his 
whole look meant kindness and good-will.” 

“ Well, well, bring me the baby now, and call 
Harold to take away this salver. Come, my boy 
— come to mother. I declare, Agistlia, you are 
nearly as much of a baby as he.” 

The girl stood meekly before her, the color 
coming and going in her cheeks. 

“There! Mind me not!” cried her mistress 
relentingly. “ But you shall have teachers. To- 
morrow bring your sewing and sit with me 
while Hipparchus reads to me. He is a learned 
eunuch who can teach you what religions there 
are, and then you may make a choice.” 

“ I have made it, my lady.” 

“ So be it! Perhaps you have done a wise 
thing, too — how can I tell? Only, those who em- 
brace this belief seem so common.” She had 
evidently forgotten the girl and was thinking 
aloud. “ Even their Messiah Himself was low- 
born and died a criminal’s death. Yet what 
sublime ideas He had! Supreme love expressed 
in supreme sacrifice— what could be more god- 
like, more unmanlike? Its force and beauty 
haunt me, and I never feel it so strongly as when 
my heart is filled with love for my dear ones. 
Perhaps—” 

She looked up suddenly, catching herself in 
her monologue, and colored as she saw Agistha 
gazing at her, vaguely trying to follow her 
thoughts. 

“ Do not stare so, child!” she cried crossly, then 
smiled and gave the flushing cheek a friendly 
pat; and before Agistha had quite comprehended 
either mood, the mistress was engaged in a 
merry frolic with her baby, waking all the 
echoes of the garden with their laughter. 

But the slave girl, slow of thought, crept away 
behind a rose tree and tried to recall all she had 
heard in the synagogue, like another humble 
woman, whose name even was as yet unknown 
to her, “ pondering these things in her heart.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

TO THE HELP OF THE CHRISTIANS. 

E VERY day when there was service at the 
synagogue the two women might have been 
seen in the gallery, listening eagerly to the 
words of the Apostles— Agistha with a simple 
faith that asked no questions, dared no doubts; 
iEnone with constant internal argument and 
resistance, yet with the persistent feeling that 
here might be the solution of all her difficulties; 
if only it were not such a wound to one’s pride 
to acknowledge one’s self pledged to a religion 
unpopular and ill-considered enough to have to 
keep itself ih the background, that it might es- 
cape constant persecution! Yet she continued to 


go and listen, and sought opportunities, after- 
wards, to talk with her handmaiden about what 
they had heard, wondering meanwhile at the 
latter’s simplicity and faith, yet half envying 
her, too. 

While Paul and his fellow-workers were still 
in the city, Amasa and Herklas one day called at 
the politarch’s house, with some exquisite 
linens from Egypt, and also some of exceeding 
fineness, enwoven with purple threads giving 
almost the effect of embroidery, brought from 
Tyre and Sidon, these being much prized by 
the Jews. 

Amasa was intent only upon the sale of his 
wares, but the yduth, knowing this was the 
home of the Lady iEnone, was secretly hoping 
he might see once more the poor maiden whom 
he had twice rescued from suffering and pri- 
vation— perhaps from death. The traders, being- 
known to the slave people as honest, courteous 
men, were readily admitted by the porter, who 
only smiled at them from the doorway of his lit- 
tle room beside the vestibule, and kept his hand 
upon the good dog, Fides, who assisted him in 
his duty of guarding the door. 

At the request of JEnone, who allowed herself 
many privileges not common among the Greek 
women— she having learned to follow Roman 
fashions somewhat— they were ushered into her 
apartments, where she sat with her maidens in 
what was called the “ winter room.” This de- 
lightful apartment, now made habitable by the 
cool mornings and evenings of -late autumn, 
faced the south, so that through the gilded lat- 
ticework of one whole length of wall the bril- 
liant sunshine poured in, lying in broad check- 
ered patterns upon the floor, only partially 
shaded by the inside vines that climbed around 
and over the diamond-shaped panes of mica, set- 
ting each in a frame of living green. Chained to 
perches, and within g'ilded cages suspended from 
the ceiling, were brilliant birds — paroquets, lin- 
nets, falcons, and even a trained nightingale, a 
rarity which had cost the doting husband more 
than one sestertium to add to his young wife’s 
collection. The paneled walls were painted in 
warm colors, and the columns which separated 
a third of the room off into a raised dais were of 
brilliantly-shaded marbles. Thick rugs, divans, 
cushions, and deep couch-like chairs, were scat- 
tered about, and at the end furthest from the 
sun stood a wide, oval-shaped charcoal brazier, 
its outer shell of st§el carved into lace-like de- 
signs. This was supported upon griffins of 
bronze and gilt, whose tongues, in some way 
colored red, lolled out of their open mouths like 
those of dogs panting with the heat— a device 
which always suggested warmth whether there 
was any fire in the receptacle, or not. 

Agistha, down on a rug in a nest of cushions, 
frolicking with the baby, whose prime favorite 
she had become, looked up as the door curtain, 
swung aside, and fairly turned white when she 
saw that the traders were Amasa and Herklas. 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


The young Greek’s eyes sought hers at once 
and she knew she was not forgotten, while he 
felt, with something akin to triumphant joy, that 
her emotion was for him alone. 

iEnone received the two men graciously, but 
when Agistlia bounded to her feet with the cry, 
“ Oh, dear mistress, they are my friends of the 
cave!” she became interested at once, and soon 
the four were busily talking, all forgetting for 
the moment that there was any difference in 
rank between them. iEnone eagerly asked ques- 
tions, and the others respectfully answered 
them, satisfying her curiosity in regard to their 
present life and purposes, and thus naturally 
approaching the subject of their religion. 

“And you are Christians!” she exclaimed. 
“ Agistlia has told me. But you,” turning in her 
quick way to Herklas, “ you are a Greek, are 
you not?” 

“ I am, my lady.” 

“ I am not surprised that the Jews, who have 
always looked for a Messiah, should be taken 
with the tales of this Jesus, whose life seems so 
full of good and whose death was so sublime, but 
it strikes me it is a long step for a worshiper of 
Apollo to take.” 

She was smiling at him, and the youth, flush- 
ing under her half -satirical gaze, answered mod- 
estly: 

“ It did not seem far to me, lady. I had been 
long discontented and doubtful. I felt that our 
gods were in many respects no better than I, 
and it seemed to me they must be far too busy 
with their loves, hates, and quarrels, to care for 
any one in humble life. So when I was told of 
the God who loves even the humblest, I was in a 
hurry to receive Him and give my love in re- 
turn.” 

“ That is like Agistlia,” said the lady, glancing 
at the girl. “ It seems, indeed, a religion for the 
lowly and the burdened— and in these troublous 
times who knows when one may not be in sore 
straits himself, however fortunate now? But 
come, open your packs and let us see what the 
looms of Egypt and Phoenicia have to offer us.” 

The display proted tempting, and ^Enone 
bought, though not largely, saying as she put- 
aside one or two rolls of the finest linens: 

“ I will not take much to-day, but whenever 
you are in the city call again, as I may want 
more presently. My husband is now absent in 
Rome and he likes to select the cloth for his own 
tunics.” 

The two men had been several times to the 
pleasant villa with their wares, when one day, 
as it was nearing sunset, and Agistha was at- 
tending her mistress in a stroll to and fro 
through the long, many-pillared peristyle which 
formed one of the enclosed courts of the great 
house, Herklas was announced, and presently 
stood making his salaam before them. He had 
no goods with him, and looked both hurried and 
agitated. 


il 

“Madam,” he began quickly, scarce waiting 
for the lady’s kindly greeting, “ I have come to 
beg your help, if possible. But first, has your 
noble husband, Gaius, the politarch, returned?” 

“ No, and will not for a day or two. What 
would you with him?” 

“ Oh, madam, have you heard nothing of the 
tumult in the lower city?” 

“Tumult? No! About what?” 

“ Concerning our friends, the Apostles, lady. 
I do not know what will come of it all, but the 
streets near their lodgings are filled with a 
crowd, shouting and threatening. It seems that 
some of the Jewish rabbis, angry and envious 
because they cannot answer Paul, and because 
notwithstanding them he keeps making converts 
among our best citizens, have stirred up the 
populace against the Apostles, and are urging 
it on to bloody deeds.” 

“ Where do they lodge?” asked iEnone quickly, 
becoming at once the stern, self-controlled 
woman of authority, while Agistha sank back 
frightened and trembling. 

“ With his kinsman, Jason the Jew, madam.” 

“I know him— a fine, honorable man! But 
surely he will not give those good men up to the 
rabble?” 

“ No, lady, they are well hidden and safe, thus 
far, but now we are trembling for Jason, who 
may suffer from the fury of the mob. He is one 
who would let himself be torn in pieces before 
he would betray a friend— and oh, if you could 
see the wolfish crowd! They are the lowest of 
the low, and ripe for any mischief.” 

“This must be looked after at once!” cried 
JEnone with decision. “ You did well to come 
to me. Order my lectica, Harold; and Agistha, 
come with me.” 

“ But, my lady,” began Herklas remonstrat- 
ingly, “ the streets all around there are blocked 
with the mob, and—” 

“ Would they dare stop the wife of a politarch? 
You know his power is supreme here, Herklas. 
Even Rome does not interfere with it, unless to 
advise and caution. But call out my body-guard 
—the people will recognize and respect their 
livery, and— wait! You shall have a horse and 
be our leader. Can you ride?” 

“ I can, madam.” 

“ Very good. We will go at once to the house 
of Jason.” 

The little cavalcade was soon under way, the 
two women in the litter, guarded by ten soldiers 
and led by Herklas, also mounted and hastily 
armed. But when they reached Jason’s home, 
nearer the shore, only an excited group of neigh- 
bors and friends stood about, who hastened to 
inform the noble lady that Jason had been 
dragged to the justice hall before the politarchs, 
for trial. 

“ We will go there at once,” said iEnone, and 
her stalwart litter-bearers broke into the swing- 
ing trot habitual to them, keeping well up with 
the horsemen. 


THE WRESTLE It OF PHILIPPI. 


52 

As they turned into the forum gates they could 
see what a mob had arisen, for the whole space 
around the steps of the judgment hall was filled 
with their excited, clamoring faces, swinging 
arms, and bobbing turbans. At iEnone’s word 
the guards, with Herklas as forerunner, began 
clearing a passage through the surging and com- 
pact mass; but though they spurred ruthlessly 
amid the people without a care where the horses’ 
hoofs struck, yet their progress seemed terribly 


bearing the colors of Gaius, the politarch? Be 
quiet, I say, and stop whimpering! He will 
never see you behind your veil, and if he did, 
you are so changed he could not recognize you. 
Ah. here we are at last! Herklas, come hither.” 

The youth rode close. 

“ No — stay! You will not do. It must be one 
of my own men whose livery is known to him. 
Here, Andrea!” 

One of the guards spurred forwards. 



Agistha bounded to her feet with the cry, “Oh, dear mistress, they are my friends of the cave!” 
' — See page 5 1 . 


slow to the anxious women inside, consisting, as 
it did, of a series of jerky advances and long 
stops. 

While they were in the thick of the crowd, 
Agistlia gave a low cry and sank back, half 
fainting, against her mistress. 

“ Silly child, to be so frightened at this ragged 
mob!” whispered iEnone through set teeth. 

But she too started and looked anxiously 
around when Agistlia murmured in return: 

“ Oh, it’s my master— Flavius— the cruel one. 
See! He is urging those men at the left to cry 
‘Down with the Christians!’ That man in a 
frayed yellow tunic, with the dark, scarred face. 
What, oh! what if he should look this way?” 

“And suppose he does, girl? Would he ever 
think of finding his wretched slave in a litter 


“ Dismount and go into yonder hall, and get 
speech with Hipparchus. Tell him I wish to 
see him at once.” 

After an interval of impatient waiting, during 
which Agistlia leaned back, muffled to the eyes, 
and shiveringly watched the active Flavius as 
he kept the crowd keyed up to its work, iEnone 
watching also with keen intentness though in 
haughty quiet, Andrea appeared with the old 
lawyer, Hipparchus, a learned eunuch belong- 
ing to the family of zEnone. 

Scarcely waiting to greet him, she broke out: 
“ What is this, Hipparchus? I hear the worthy 
Jason is under condemnation. Is that true?” 

“ Yes. he is being examined now, my lady.” 

“ And for what, pray?” 

“For harboring some seditious men who are 



THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


53 


stirring up the people about a new king, 
and—” 

“ Bali! The same stupid old story that is made 
the cause of every unjust persecution of these 
Jews. Have you heard these Apostles speak, 
yourself? If you had, you would see the ab- 
surdity of such a charge, for they preach only 
peace, love, good-will, and self-sacrifice— never 
the seditions of public or private conspiracy. 
And Jason, too! You know his honesty, and 
what a good friend of ours he has been. Oh, 
if only Gains were here! Is there no sense 
among the other politarclis, that they let them- 
selves be ruled by a mob?” 

“ But you see, my lady, our loyalty has been 
questioned — especially that of our Jewish neigh- 
bors in the city. It was for that, as you know, 
that Gaius was called to Rome for counsel, and 
it will not do to let it be said that we harbor 
among us even the thought of a new king.” 

“ No more! 1 am ashamed of you! Oh, were I 
a man! or were my husband, who is worth any 
two other men in Thessalonica, but here to speak 
for the right! Y T et stay! Can they imprison 
Jason if security be offered for his person?” 

“ Not on this charge, lady.” 

“And the Apostles have not been found?” 

“ Not yet.” 

“Ah, ha! This simplifies things!” She 
laughed gayly. “ Go offer security at once, Hip- 
parchus. Y'ou understand that I will be respon- 
sible. Have our good Jason discharged, and we 
will argue the right of this thing later. Will you 
do this for me?” 

He looked refusal for a minute; the lady 
iEnone was really too bold for a woman, though 
as fine a creature as ever lived! She was as 
dear to him as an own child, indeed, and when 
he looked up bravely to say “ no,” he met a win- 
ning smile that drew forth a reluctant “ yes.” 

As Hipparchus slowly remounted the stately 
steps of the hall, iEnone gave the word “ Home!” 
and looked after him with a merry glance. She 
was as gay over her victory as she had been 
angry at the cause for it. Her moods were 
subtle and changeable as the stirrings of the 
wind, but pervading them all was the fine per- 
fume of a generous, large-hearted nature. She 
now began to banter Agistha upon her pale 
cheeks and frightened eyes, dimly visible 
through her veil. 

“ Come, no longer fear!” she said with sunny 
imperiousness. “ Let Flavius claim you if he 
dare! I only wish he would. I watched him 
narrowly, Agistha, and I have made a discovery. 
Let me whisper it— he has been a galley slave!” 

“Oh, my lady! How can you tell?” 

“ I saw the brand upon his cheek. It has been 
cleverly concealed by a sabre stroke, leaving a 
cross scar above it, but it is there; I cannot be 
deceived. And furthermore, it is the brand given 
for a life sentence. The man is an escaped 
criminal — of that I am certain. How you look at 
me, child! Do you wonder how X know all this?” 


“ Ah, my lady knows everything, but this does 
seem a strange thing for you to understand.” 

“ Yet the explanation is simple enough. I 
have a sailor cousin who is in charge of one of 
the government galleys, and he has told me 
much. 1 used to go on board frequently when 
we were in Rome, and I learned each brand by 
heart. It was through curiosity, only— I always 
will be learning, and often, too, concerning mat- 
ters that seem of little use to a woman of rank. 
But, Agistha, I have noticed already that curi- 
osity is the key to wisdom, and wisdom, of what- 
ever variety, is never wasted. It is like my 
coffer of odds-and-ends at home. Give a hasty 
glance beneath the lid and one would say the 
contents are useless. But wait! One day I need 
a silken tassel for my girdle, and I find it there; 
another day my sandal laces break— never mind: 
more are forthcoming. Or perhaps Chloe needs 
a bit of stuff to mend her tunic, or one of my 
crisping pins is missing— a few minutes’ search 
helps us both to what tve need. So every bit of 
knowledge proves useful, no matter if it be but 
the brand upon the cheek of a galley slave — 
and here am I turning the coffer of my wits 
wrong side out for you!” 

She ended with a laugh in which Agistha 
feebly joined, her fears vanishing in the warm 
atmosphere of protection and support which 
every one must feel when succored by this great- 
hearted, clear-headed Lady iEnone. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE BRIDE OF HERKLAS. 

H ERKLAS did not accompany the women 
home. A whisper from iEnone had sent 
him off, still mounted, upon some other 
business over which Agistha dared ask no ques- 
tions. But after the delayed evening meal had 
been served and the mistress had spent an hour 
or more playing softly on her lyre, and oc- 
casionally breaking into sweet, low singing, 
there was a stir in the peristyle outside the 
women’s apartments, and presently the page ap- 
peared to say that Herklas requested a short 
audience with the Lady iEnone, if she were 
pleased to see him that night. 

She sprang up at once, flung her lyre upon the 
divan and started out; but catching a glimpse of 
her handmaiden’s wistful face, she hesitated an 
instant, then said graciously, “ You may attend 
me, Agistha,” at which the latter rose to her feet 
and quickly followed. 

They found Herklas somewhat dusty and dis- 
ordered, as if from a long ride, and as he 
salaamed low he said apologetically: 

“ I waited for nothing, madam, but came to re- 
port to you, as you bade me.” 

“ Y r es, that is right. And what is the report?” 
she asked eagerly. 


54 


TIIE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


“ The Apostles are safe on the road to Berea, 
lady. We went with them until sure they were 
not pursued, and then left them to other friends 
as trusty.” 

“ That is well! And Jason?” 

“ The politarclis discharged him after security 
had been given, and he is in his own house, 
somewhat bruised and shaken, but not seriously 
injured.” 

“ And— the other?” 

She shot a glance from under her lids at 
Agistha, but Herklas did not allow his gaze to 
wander. 

“ I have done your bidding, madam, and he is 
now in the inner prison, arrested on the charge 
of theft, and—” 

“Theft?” 

“Yes, lady. He was caught robbing a booth 
by. the officers I sent to arrest him. After he is 
tried on that score, however, your testimony can 
be given against him.” 

“ You have done well, Herklas! You have my 
sincere thanks, and more. But of that later.” 

She clapped her hands sharply, and Harold ap- 
peared from behind a curtain. 

“ Conduct this guest of mine to the small 
triclinium,” she said briskly, “ and tell my 
women of the culina to serve him with the best 
meal possible on such short notice. And you, 
Agistha,” turning with a careless air to the girl, 
“ may see that he is properly served.” 

She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, 
and returned to her private apartments, where, 
with a smile curving her lips, she once more re- 
sumed her lyre and her singing. 

“ One can see they are made for each other!” 
she murmured; then after freshly tuning the 
stringed instrument, she began a sighing little 
love song, so tender and low that it was scarcely 
more than the whisper of a tune such as a bird 
will sometimes breathe to the night air, when 
some unwonted glow makes him think the dawn 
is near. 

Herklas, scarcely believing in his good for- 
tune, followed Harold, while Agistha, trembling, 
blushing, yet not reluctant, followed him. 
Neither spoke at first. He took his easy attitude 
upon one of the couches with a half-deprecating 
air, and she stood by, ready to minister to his 
slightest want, as was the attitude of most 
women to their lords in that day. Presently, 
however, the rich viands loosened the young 
man’s tongue, and Agistha softly answered his 
remarks, her mood responding to his as clear 
crystal tingles to the touch of a golden bar. 

He told her of his new life, with its beliefs, 
hopes, and work, to which she added the glad 
news that she, too, had taken the Christ into her 
heart. Finally, after much talk about them- 
selves, which was not, therefore, selfish, since 
it also reached out to the help of others, he said: 

“ Agistha, to-night I have been told something 
which may change all my future plans. If 
-events shape themselves, under God, as I believe 


they will, I shall remain permanently in Tliessa- 
lonica, and it will be fitting that I should have 
a wife and a home.” 

Agistha dropped her eyes and trembled. 

“ I think your mistress favors me,” he was 
continuing, but at the word “ mistress ” she 
broke into a cry of despair. 

“ Oh, yes, yes! But I had forgotten! If is my 
master I have to fear— my real master, Flavius! 
How dare I think of any future, when he is 
likely to claim me at a moment’s notice?” 

“Flavius?” cried Herklas, staring at her. 
“ The suspected— but no, I must not betray the 
Lady yEnone’s matters. But is he your mas- 
ter?” 

“ I know what you would say, Herklas— the 
suspected galley-slave. Alas! yes, that wicked 
man is the master I escaped from.” 

“ Say rather who left you as dead without 
burial— the brute! He will never claim you, 
Agistha, never. Not only because he thinks you 
dead, but because— no, I have no right to tell 
you. Only, ask the kind Lady iEnone, and per- 
haps she will explain what T cannot. But one 
question more before I go.” 

He asked it so softly that even Harold could 
not hear, and her answer must have pleased 
him. for he left the house with a firm, quicK 
tread, and a proud smile on his face. 

As for Agistha. she soon appeared before her 
mistress so subdued in her manner that the lady 
broke into merry laughter. 

“ What ails the girl?” she cried banterinsrly. 
“ One would think she had been caught stealing 
sweetmeats!” 

At which Agistha called up courage enough to 
ask: “ My lady, is it true I need no longer fear 
my old master?— and why?” 

“Ah, the young trader told you that, did he? 
And of course explained everything.” 

“ No, madam. He said they were your affairs 
and he had no right to do so, but bade me ask 
you, who are so kind.” 

“ What is it to him, Agistha, whether you are 
free or not? Ah, ha! your blushes answer. Well, 
well! it is all right, I am sure. He is true and 
good and beautiful. I will give you your wed- 
ding, my girl, and it shall be one suitable for 
the favorite of a politarclfs wife.” 

“ But Flavius? You forget I am a slave yet, 
lady.” 

“ I forget nothing, child! Your master, as you 
call that wretch, is now in prison, and will soon 
be returned to his proper service under govern- 
ment.” 

The girl smiled broadly. It was the first time 
she had really felt secure. Then her face 
clouded over. 

“Ah!” she sighed, “the blessed Christ, whose 
follower I would be, forgave even his enemies, 
who were still more cruel than Flavius. I ought 
to do the same.” 

iEnone looked at her with astonishment. 

“ Forgive him?” she cried. “ He who beat and 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


55 


starved yon, and, not content to ruin your pres- 
ent life, left you unburied, that even your soul 
should never have rest? Forgiveness for sueli 
a creature is an impossibility!” 

But at that moment came to the speaker’s 
mind the accounts not only of Christ and of 
Stephen, but of later martyrs also, who had 
sublimely forgiven under the tortures of a cruel 
death, and she grew thoughtful. 

“ Yes, even that does seem to be demanded of 
us,” she murmured at last. “ If Christ came to 
save sinners, surely this Flavius is one; and if 
the Christian’s God can forgive such, should not 
the Christian as well?” 

The lady shook her head as if it were a 
problem beyond her, then looked up with her 
merry glance. 

“ Yes, forgive him, Agistha, that is right. But 
let us be thankful that even your pardon can- 
not free him now!” 

A few days later, Gains having returned mean- 
while, the once galley slave was called up for 
examination and fully identified as a murderer 
who had escaped years before during a frightful 
storm in the Tyrrhenean Sea, when the galley 
had capsized. He was supposed to have been 
drowned at that time, but by superhuman 
efforts managed to reach the shore. He was now 
“ put to the question,” and forced by torture to 
confess that he had not acquired Agistha by 
purchase or inheritance, but had stolen her from 
a palace in Rome, soon after his escape from 
the shipwreck, intending to negotiate with her 
wealthy parents for a ransom, but being after- 
wards in danger of recognition, had carried her 
with him to Nicopolis in Gi*eece, still meaning 
in time to demand a ransom which would set 
him up independently for life. Meanwhile he 
left her, still a small child, in the care of a 
woman there. Later he took her with him to 
Macedonia, thinking that now he would sell her 
as a slave, for he believed it too late to try and 
restore her to her parents. But not readily get- 
ting his price for the puny, haggard, half-starved 
little creature, he kept possession of her, though 
leaving her for weeks at a time to pick up a liv- 
ing, as best she could, among his associates in 
poverty and crime. 

At length the child fell seriously ill, and 
though she received only the precarious nursing 
of charity, was finally able to be about again, 
but with a disordered brain. Her singular 
powers of divination then first showed them- 
selves, and gained her new interest, for the un- 
scrupulous Flavius at once saw money in this 
acquisition. He had before this been connected 
with Alois, the Phoenician, in more than one 
questionable proceeding, and now the two re- 
solved to go into partnership in exhibiting the 
girl, hoping to make a fortune out of her am- 
biguous utterances. 

All this was literally forced from Flavius bit 
by bit, but nothing could make him reveal the 
name of Agistlia’s parents. Through severe suf- 


fering he persisted that he did not know, and 
when his tormentors turned the screws tighter 
he shrieked out names at random, evidently only 
to shorten the agony. Thus they became con- 
vinced that he really did not know, but his de- 
scription of the house proved that it must be one 
of the palaces, for its vast peristyle w T as sur- 
rounded by marble columns and costly statuary, 
while a large fountain, beautifully shaded by 
flowering plants, played in its center. Other 
courts, smaller but as luxurious, he spoke of 
seeing in vista, and all showed enormous wealth 
in their plenishing. 

He had gained entrance to this peristyle 
through the narrow fauces or passages leading 
from the garden to the peristyle, past the 
kitchens. The gate in the wall surrounding this 
garden had been inadvertently left ajar, and he 
had slunk in, hoping to steal something within 
the luxurious enclosure— a gay wrap carelessly 
flung across a seat perhaps, or a piece of silver- 
ware left from some banquet. But he found 
nothing portable, so, seeing no one, he kept on 
until he reached the peristyle, where only a wee 
child was playing about the fountain. Obeying 
his first evil instinct of thievery, he quickly 
threw his girdle over her head to stifle her cries, 
and ran off with her wrapped close in his tunic, 
escaping without rousing a person, as it was the 
hour of the siesta, and all Rome lay asleep for 
the time being. 

From this story he would not deviate, and was 
finally released from further torture, though 
only, subsequently, to be returned to the cruel 
galleys and his hopeless life of hard labor and 
degrading servitude. As he ground his teeth and 
cursed his fate it did not occur to him that it was 
a most exact justice which had made the poor, 
enslaved girl the innocent cause of his recapture. 
In the first place he was still uncertain how her 
fate had become known, or whether she was 
alive or dead; and in the second, had he known 
all, it would have been the same, for to one of 
his nature justice is as incomprehensible as 
mercy. 

While Gains each night repeated to his inter- 
ested wife these glimpses of crime wrung from 
the wretched man by rack and screw, she grew 
more and more engrossed in her little hand- 
maiden, and a doubt began to assail her. 

“ Surely, Gaius, this points to the noblest par- 
entage, and thus disarranges all my plans,” she 
said once. “ I had meant to marry her to young 
Herklas, but he is only a trader, and—” 

“Ah! my wife, the trades are growing more 
honorable every day. Men must make money to 
keep up with the ruinously extravagant 
fashions. But how can you be certain that she 
is of noble birth? She might have been the 
child of some favorite slave, for aught we 
know.” 

“ But you say Flavius confessed that she was 
beautifully clothed, so—” 

“ The most extravagantly dressed baby I saw 


56 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


in Rome was the Gallic slave boy, blit four years 
old, of our brave young general, Otlio. He looked 
like a little prince, and had his special nurse, as 
our own Ian.” 

“ I know. It is the silly fashion of the times. 
Some of my women friends load their maids 
with jewels tit for a princess or priestess. But 
how can we know aught concerning Agistha? 
Ilis description of the mansion would apply to 
so many.” 

“ Truly. It throws little light upon the sub- 
ject; and besides, the occupants are apt to 
change with the caprice of the emperor. The 
best way would be to make a list of all the 
patricians of twelve years ago and find if any 
sustained such a loss— but that would be a her- 
culean task. You say she knows nothing of all 
this?” 

“ Not a word.” 

“Then what good can it do to tell her? It 
may make her discontented, and spoil a sweet 
disposition, to no purpose.” 

“ But have we a right to keep it?” 

Gaius thought they had, and they debated the 
question some time, neither yielding to the other, 
for iEnone, though a loving and dutiful wife, 
was not of those women who had no mind of 
their own. At length she sensibly broke up the 
warm discussion by asking abruptly: 

“ Which of the patricians did you see most of, 
Gaius?” 

“ Well, Aulus Clotius. I think. He is very 
civil to strangers, and I have met him before 
when he was in this city, you remember.” 

“ Let me see — he is the officer who was con- 
spicuous in the last triumphal procession, is he 
not ?” 

“ Yes, the son of Aleutius, who died about thir- 
teen years ago, some think by his own hand, be- 
cause Caligula had a grudge against him. At 
any rate, for a time his widow and orphans, 
though not banished, lived in great seclusion and 
were not recognized in Court circles.” 

“There were other children, then?” 

“ Yes, one other; a daughter, I think.” 

“ And where is she now?” 

“ She must have died early. Pamphylia re- 
ferred to her only indirectly, as if long since lost 
to her. Certainly she now has but the one son, 
Aulus. One seeing him would scarcely believe 
he won such lumors in the campaign against 
Briton, for he is but an effeminate young man 
in appearance. However, he rails at his own in- 
action, and really longs, I think, for another 
campaign; but his wife and mother will not 
listen to his leaving them alone.” 

“ Oh, he is married?” 

“ Certainly, and his wife is as merry as his 
mother is subdued; but both are lovely women.” 

A few weeks later Herklas and Agistha were 
married at the home of their kind protector. 
Before this event Herklas fully explained to 
both Gaius and his wife his future plans. These 


were, that he was to be installed at Thessa- 
lonica as deacon of the new church of Christ, 
and instead of traveling about the country, was 
to remain permanently in the city in charge of a 
shop of his own, the necessary funds having 
been lent him by wealthy friends in that boly. 

January was chosen as the time for the mar- 
riage, that being a favorite nuptial month with 
the Greeks, and before the day set, Gaius, in a 
talk with Herklas, revealed what he knew of 
• Agistlia’s early history, leaving it to the young 
husband to repeat this singular story to her, or 
not, as he chose. Herklas was not ambitious in 
a worldly way, nor did he wish to awaken such 
ambitions in his wife, so after much thought he 
decided to not at present stir up the placid 
waters of her mind with such disconcerting 
ideas, fearing like Gaius its effect upon her 
peace. Thus ignorant of all but the blessed fact 
that she “ had been bond but now was free,” 
both bodily and spiritually, Agistha entered into 
her new life. 

It was a simple ceremony that changed the 
Greek girl into the matron, partaking still of 
many pagan rites and ablutions, but transfused 
and glorified by Cliristian'sacredness and depth 
of feeling. Herklas secured a modest house in 
the gardens back of the villa, and one evening, 
dressed in brave attire, with a new tunic of fin- 
est linen and a girdle of silk from India, he en- 
tered a chariot drawn by mules and gayly 
decorated with vines and flowers. 

This was the nuptial car, and a low couch 
gorgeously trimmed in honor of the bride who 
was soon to be borne upon it, occupied its entire 
length. On one side sat Herklas; on the other 
Amasa, who acted as master of ceremonies. In 
great state, to low and winsome music, they 
were driven slowly through the streets, the peo- 
ple turning out in throngs to shout their greet- 
ings; and thus even before they were in sight, 
Agistha, tremblingly receiving the last touches 
to her rich attire, lavishly furnished by yEnone, 
heard the eager shout, “ Behold, the bridegroom 
cometli!” and begged her maids of a day to 
hurry. 

Soon she stood within the atrium, veiled from 
head to foot, her delicately-clad person emanat- 
ing perfumes, her arms supported by proud 
mothers of boys (that thus might their happy 
fortune attend her new life), and awaited her 
groom. The car drew nearer, stopped. The music 
grew louder, more insistent. The groom entered 
with the violence of a love that would take 
everything by storm, and demanded the bride of 
her parents, making as if he would tear her 
away; all mere acting of course, for Gaius, who 
stood this night in the place of father to the 
blushing Agistha, readily seconded the groom 
and placed her hand in his, which simple cere- 
mony of demanding and giving made them one. 

The young husband then led his bride to the 
chariot, seating her on the couch-like throne, 
and placing himself at her side, while Amasa 


57 


TIIE WREST LEU OF PHILIPPI. 


sat behind and diverted the crowd, who were 
full of the tricks and merriment common at a 
wedding. 

All the younger people of the household 
formed a procession with torches, garlands, 
bells, and musical instruments of every descrip- 
tion, and amid a merry din they left the old 
home for the new. The doorposts of the latter 
had been decorated with garlands and ivy leaves 
and laurel, and as the procession drew near it 
the custom was to sing a song to Hymen; but to- 
day Herklas had begged the singers to substi- 
tute a Christian hymn, and to its sweet notes of 
praise they entered their future home as man 
and wife. 

Here in the hall, or ostium, stood Jason’s wife, 
representing the groom’s mother, and to her the 
bride’s mother (represented by ^Enone) handed 
over the young wife, to show that she no longer 
owed devotion to her own kinspeople, but to her 
husband’s first pf all. Then she was led to a 
private room to banquet with her female com- 
panions, while her husband received his special 
friends in the larger triclinium. 

The feasting lasted several days, and some- 
times grew wearisome to stomach and purse. 
The day following the marriage the bride and 
lier maidens were kept busy opening the baskets 
of gifts, sent by loving friends, not only, but by 
sycophants, and all who had private ends to gain 
with her lord, if such there were. The most of 
Agistlia’s gifts were sent in real affection, how- 
ever, for she had endeared herself to more than 
were found in the household of Gaius, while 
Herklas was a universal favorite. 

So passed a few days, until no one could de- 
part saying the master of the feast had been 
niggardly in the entertaiment, and then came a 
still, home-like day which must have been very 
welcome to the loving couple. All the guests had 
departed, all the turmoil and confusion were at 
an end, and the two were left at last alone to 
prove each other, and to set up their own family 
altar, undisturbed by friend or foe. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

HAPPENINGS IN PHILIPPI. 

T HE faithful at Philippi did not once lose 
sight of Paul in his wanderings, and with 
the liberality born of true love often sent 
him such sums as they could raise for his relief, 
which were carried over the road by devoted 
brethren, who gladly undertook the journey in 
order to see and converse once more with the be- 
loved Apdstles, whose courageous life was but 
the mirror of brave and holy teaching. 

These donations were wholly voluntary, as 
Paul, no matter how weary with the day's toil, 
often worked far into the night at his trade of 


tent-making, in order not to be a burden upon 
his hearers. He seems, indeed, never to have 
expected help from the Thessalonians, and per- 
haps the true reason for this was because of the 
many unemployed “ busybodies ” abounding in 
that city, whom he might thus encourage lo 
leave off their idle gadding about, in order to 
spend their time in sober, honest toil. 

Truly, in the best sense. Paul in his remark- 
able journeyings at this time proved that he was 
“ all things to all men ’’—courteous among the 
refined, wise among the learned, tactful among 
the disputatious, busy where industry told, and 
with the greatest patience in inaction, when 
waiting was the will of the Lord. • 

In the house of Junius for a year or so there 
was little outward change. The two women 
wove industriously, and Salome added to this 
occupation that of carding and spinning wool 
and flax, which she had been kindly taught 
by Lydia. Junius, deprived of his office, had 
dropped easily into the despicable role of an 
idler— of whom there were far too many in every 
Grecian town— and sat about in the market- 
place all day, “ hearing and seeing every new 
thing,” discussing public affairs with others of 
like habits, and growing daily a little more in- 
temperate, more ragged, and more unashamed, 
than the day before. 

Elizabeth seemed much the same, calm, serene 
and sweet, but the contour of her face sharpened 
rapidly, and its pallor increased. She depended 
more and more upon Salome and Nadab. The 
latter was growing fast and promised to be her 
greatest solace and support in time. Thus work- 
ing and loving together, they might have been 
almost comfortable but for the fact that every- 
thing in Philippi— its business, pleasure, home 
life, and public events— was based upon pagan 
ceremonies, and as Christians our little family 
found themselves debarred much that was 
otherwise desirable. In social matters the young 
people felt this most keenly, in business affairs 
the older ones. 

Even in the basket-weaving the question of 
expediency or brave right-doing often came up. 
Many wished the symbols of the gods woven 
into the baskets, or ordered such as had special 
uses in and about the temple services, and these 
orders Elizabeth felt she could not in conscience 
execute, while Salome was hindered from pre- 
paring the best and finest fabrics because they 
were for the use of priest, or Vestal, or to adorn 
those who joined in the processions to the gods. 
No Christian could in the slightest manner as- 
sist at such worship, and thus the calling of each 
often suffered, apparently, because of that 
higher calling which placed the kingdom of 
heaven first, and the acquisitions of this world 
last and least. 

Then, too, it was almost impossible to appren- 
tice Nadab to a good trade, for on the one side 
the heathen master preferred a boy of his own 
faith who would work, worship, and take his 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


S8 

holidays exactly as he bade him, while on the 
other Elizabeth could not bear to place her son 
under the legal control of a master who “ loved 
not Christ and his righteousness.” 

But God did not leave them desolate. In their 
own congregation they were loved and honored, 
and when help was absolutely needed it always 
came. If Junius had been one with them they 
would have considered themselves well off in 
their humble way, but he chose to attribute to 
the score of their “ fanaticism ” all the misfor- 
tunes resulting from his own conduct, shifting 
the blame from his own weak shoulders, where 
it belonged. 

But even as things were, they did not repine. 
For a time, indeed, after the man’s dismissal 
Elizabeth was very grave, and each morning her 
swollen lids betrayed the night’s weeping; but 
one day she came forth from her chamber with 
bright eyes, a smiling mouth, and an air of such 
lightness and joy that each one noticed and said 
something in. laughing approval. But when 
alone with her, Salome hastened to ask: 

“ What is it, dear? You look so glad, so 
happy! Has Junius promised better things?” 

Elizabeth shook her head. “ No, little sister, 
it is our Lord Who has promised, and I have been 
shutting my ears— that is all. Last night, as I 
lay weeping, it all came to me with the sharp- 
ness of a rebuke. Why should I w T eep and 
repine? Why should I bear this trouble as 
if it was my trouble alone? Had I not 
been expressly commanded not to do so? I re- 
membered how Jesus once said that w r e ‘ would 
not come to Him that we might have life,’ and 
I began to wonder, w T as it I who was holding- 
aloof instead of Him, as I had felt? Then kept 
recurring many, man ® 7 words: ‘ He that cometh 
to me shall never hunger,’ ‘ It is the will of my 
Father that all who believe shall have everlast- 
ing life,’ ‘ He that followetli me shall not walk 
in darkness,’ and that beautiful request, ‘ Come 
unto me, all ye heavy laden,’ and little by little 
everything grew clear. I had no right to agonize 
thus over my husband— it was distrusting 
Christ. It was as if I were bent double with 
some heavy load and a stronger offered to carry 
it, saying, ‘ It is really my load — give it to me!’ 
yet I would still persist in clinging to the dread- 
ful weight, staggering and groaning at every 
step, yet blaming that other even while refusing 
to yield the burden; and I said, ‘ Forgive me, 
Lord! Junius was yours before he was mine, 
and you love him. I give him to you to carry and 
to save. I will do my human best, and I will 
trust your heavenly wisdom and await your 
time. I have brought my burden— give me your 
comfort!’ And oh! Salome, such rest, such peace 
as I felt! I turned over and slept like a little 
child. I rose like a glad maiden with no care, 
for I know that my Lord is carrying my burden, 
that I may rest in His peace. Junius is His now, 
and He is ‘ mighty to save.’ ” 

But Salome sometimes felt it would take a 


stronger faith than hers to be certain that Christ 
would save the surly, stupid man who seemed 
drifting further from them and from all good 
with every passing month. The young pagan 
captain was the only one of his old associates 
who seemed to have any notice or care for him. 
and he still continued to show a friendly interest 
in his affairs. 

Cleotas, as the latter was called, could not 
readily forget Salome’s spirited refusal to take 
part in the Lenaea, and, with his mind thus 
stirred to questioning, he w r atched that feast to 
the gods with new eyes, when it took place. The 
result was that its wantonness and license fairly 
confounded him, and he w 7 ent home afterwards 
(with a clearer head than ever before) to ponder 
over this and the corresponding spring festival 
called the Bacchanalia, in which he had always 
thoughtlessly joined, sleeping off the fumes of 
strong wanes and excitement later, without, 
further thought than perhaps to boast of his 
ability to keep up the carousing longer than 
some men. 

In his new perplexities he naturally sought 
counsel among his friends, and of these the con- 
verted jailer, now an officer of the church, came 
first to mind as he saw him almost daily in the 
way of business. Through him he w r as led to 
seek Luke, the beloved physician, who had per- 
sonal care of the little flock in Philippi at this 
time, and ere long Cleotas became a true be- 
liever and helpful member of this body. 

In the assemblies, held oftenekt in private 
houses, he constantly met Elizabeth and Salome, 
and soon learned to look upon them as special 
friends. He was a brave, athletic fellow, wfitli 
the strong man’s instinct for protecting all help- 
less creatures, and the inside knowledge of their 
trials which had come to him made him anxious 
to help in every way. So, whenever possible, he 
gave Junius employment by the day, and se- 
cured public orders for the women, such as 
weaving- mats for the justice halls and offices, or 
cloth for awnings and door curtains. 

In this manner he won his way into their 
hearts, and no one thought it strange or unsuit- 
able when, three years after Salome became a 
part of Elizabeth’s household, she left it to go 
with Cleotas to a much finer home, as his 
honored. wife. It was, even in the eyes of Lydia, 
w r lio always took a motherly interest in the girl, 
a desirable marriage, for Cleotas was not only 
a sincere Christian, but an official in high stand- 
ing, who had both means and influence. 

Salome could now 7 show 7 her gratitude, and so 
generous w 7 as she that Elizabeth’s cares were 
greatly lightened. More than this, Cleotas w r as 
able to help Nadab onwards in the difficult up- 
ward climb of a drunkard’s son, and soon after 
the marriage made the youth his deputy, with 
fair pay, and every chance for promotion. 

During all this time Junius seemed steadily 
declining, and Elizabeth still “ waited upon the 
Lord ” for his salvation. She was always gen- 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


tie, and as loving as she could be with one of 
his disposition, while her treatment of him at 
his worst was courteous and considerate. 

Once Salome, stung to anger by an exhibition 
of his brutality and Elizabeth’s patience, cried 
out sharply, after he had stumbled from their 
presence: 

“ How can you treat him like that, Elizabeth? 
You really act as if you respected him!” 

Elizabeth turned to the speaker, her face radi- 
ant with a great thought. 

“ I do,” she said gently. “ He belongs to God; 
he is one of the sinners bought with a great 
price, for all innocence, all virtue, all faith, suf- 
fer through his degradation. But Christ loves 
him, and it is His will to save him. I must re- 
spect him then, Salome; I dare not do other- 
wise!” 

And Junius, through the slow deterioration of 
heart' and brain, felt this, and secretly clung to 
it as a sailor submerged in deep and surging 
waters clings to the rope thrown from the 
stately, steady ship riding calmly above him. 

“I am a man!” he would tell himself with a 
thickened tongue. “ I am Elizabeth’s husband, 
and she looks up to me. I will have to get the 
better of this sometime— yes, I certainly will.” 

But the days slid by and his resolves with 
them. The line seemed very slack now, and he 
hardly felt its pull in these thick, slimy waters. 
But ofttimes, on the ship, the captain can both 
feel and clearly see the rope which the half- 
drowned sailor scarcely knows has been thrown 
him. Elizabeth knew it must be plain to the 
All-seeing Eye, and, groping by faith, she felt it 
too, and never ceased to pray and to believe. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A GLIMPSE AT COURT LIFE IN ROME. 

A S the intrigues, splendors, amusements and 
successes of his life at court tilled Hec- 
tor’s time and thoughts, so did the holy in- 
fluences, once powerfully felt, suffer neglect and 
decay. The virtues, especially those of truth 
and love, were not in demand among that inner 
circle of patricians who occupied the royal man- 
sions. These perfectly understood that the Em- 
peror Claudius was a drunkard; his wife Agrip- 
pina a shameless intriguer whose hands were 
not free from the stain of blood; her son Nero— 
while outwardly a brilliant and beautiful boy — 
in reality an ambitious tool without conscience 
or compassion; and even Burrhus and Seneca, 
statesman and philosopher, though the bright- 
est stars in that night of sin, were often found 
stooping to hypocrisy and time-serving, hopeless 
to hasten the dawning. 

How then could a young man entirely de- 
pendent upon courtly favor do otherwise than 


S9 

follow the lead of his betters and learn to close 
eyes and ears, repress natural right feeling, and 
simply do as he was bidden, neither asking ques- 
tions nor making comments? 

So thought Hector; for looking about, he found 
no Daniels in Caesar’s household, and, failing 
either outward or inward moral support, he 
grew nearly as reckless and ready in crime as 
the rest. 

He had not been two years in Rome when 
there was a complete change in the government. 
The Weak Claudius was dead, having been poi- 
soned by his wife, and Nero, her son, had been 
declared Caesar by the Praetorian Guards before 
Brittanicus, own son of the murdered emperor, 
fully knew that his father’s sudden illness was 
fatal. So perfectly and secretly did the subtle 
Agrippina lay her plots and mature her plans. 

Aulus Clotius was naturally a strong adherent 
of Nero’s, and the accession brought him new 
honors. He was made Tribunus Celerum, com- 
mander of the Royal Guards, and he and his 
household were invited to live under the im- 
perial roof, which was large enough to house 
over a thousand people in roomy luxury. Hec- 
tor advanced with him and won favor with the 
amusement-loving Nero because of his wrestling 
powers. Many a time, after a surfeiting ban- 
quet, the Greek was called in to amuse the com- 
pany, and was pitted in private combat against 
some gladiator famed for his skill in the arena. 
Aulus sometimes told his client laughingly that 
Caesar only sought a good opportunity to con- 
sign him to the same fate, and that if ever he 
lost the favor of the court he might know what 
his punishment would be— death in the amphi- 
theatre. 

At present, however, Hector stood well, 
and any disgrace seemed far away. He had been 
made a centurion in the Imperial Guards, and 
had a suite of apartments in one of the palace 
wings called the Prsetorium. Here he lived in 
luxury with his family — his wife Celeste, once 
the pretty Gallic slave girl, now a freedwoman 
through the generosity of her mistress, and his 
two little children, a boy and girl. During 
Nero’s early reign Aulus had been out upon one 
long campaign in which Hector accompanied 
him, proving so brave and sturdy an adherent 
that the tie between them grew brotherly in its 
strength. 

Pampliylia and Julia, hearing how, in close 
combat, Hector had twice interposed his body 
and shield between their lord and the spear of 
a fierce barbarian, felt they owed him much, 
and when the warriors returned gladly pro- 
moted the marriage between himself and the 
favorite Celeste, making her free that she might 
not dishonor him by a misalliance. 

So everything went smoothly on the outside 
for Hector— but how was it within? A house 
left to perfect tranquillity through disuse should, 
it would seem, be better preserved than one 
kept in constant service, with childish feet pat- 


60 


THE WllESTLEB OF PHILIPPI 


tering about, and a busy family giving it hard 
knocks. But this is not true. The disused house 
begins a slow, silent deterioration from the min- 
ute the family departs. Wind, sun, rain, and 
worm, take arms against it, to batter, scorch, 
rot, and burrow, from roof to foundation, and 
unless bright, active life comes into it again, the 
house is doomed. A few years will see it an un- 
sightly ruin. 

So it is with a man’s soul. When busy care, 
anxiety, temptation even, beset it without and 
within, while the love of Christ tills every part, 
it grows only stronger and better for the attri- 
tion; but let the love-liglit die out, let prosperity 
slowly smother it in outside beauty, and it 
surely tends to extinction. 

The soul of Hector was thus rapidly falling 
into ruin because too inactive and too empty, 
til) deeds which had at first thrilled him with 
horror caused but a shrug of the shoulders, per- 
haps. 

It was popular to join in the processions, so 
he and his family were sure to be prominent in 
these events, however immodest or grotesque 
they might be; for the same reason he was al- 
ways at the cruel gladiatorial contests in the 
amphitheatre, watching them with an interest 
possible only to one who understood what 
strength and skill they involved, and too often 
he would not turn down his thumbs to save a 
poor overpowered wretch, because in his own 
proud strength he felt that the defeated gladi- 
ator had been too easy a prey. 

Besides all these comparatively innocent em- 
ployments, were many he never spoke of even in 
his own home, for was he not, with his one hun- 
dred men, always at the beck of Nero? What 
this secret service meant under his guidance, 
made Hector at first recoil and perchance try to 
withdraw from active participation. But to 
what purpose? He was in a net, and its meshes 
tightened with every crime committed. 

Hector, however, salved over his conscience 
with the law made applicable to slaves, “ A 
servant can do no crime when he fulfills only 
the will of his master,” though he could not at 
all times stifle his self-disgust. 

Thus passed the first five “good years,” as 
they were called, of Nero’s reign, because, with 
all their extravagance and crime, they were as 
nothing to what followed. During this era the 
young Nero found enough satisfaction in the 
license and power of his position to leave the 
governing of the Empire mostly to his wise 
counselors, Burrhus and Seneca, hence the out- 
side world had little to complain of. But with- 
in the palace were all forms of wickedness. 
The young Brittanicus, whose only crime was 
that he belonged by right on the throne, was 
poisoned as his father had been; :ujd his girl 
sister, who drew every breath in fear, was set 
aside for a slave woman, though her marriage 
with Nero gave her the empty title of Empress. 

Of all these events Hector had a superficial 


knowledge, of some a conviction so deep that 
the stains rested heavily on his own soul, and 
yet each passing year greeted him as “ a pros- 
perous man.” 

It was nearing fifty-nine, over six years since 
the memorable night when Hector, a brave, un- 
sullied youth, tore through the streets of 
Philippi calling aloud for his sister. He had 
just risen from his banqueting couch after the 
evening meal, and was playing with his young- 
est child, a sweet little girl, named in that sis- 
ter’s memory, Salome, when the door opened to 
admit a page, who announced Aulus Clotius, al- 
ways a welcome guest. 

Hector laughingly rose from his somewhat 
undignified posture on the rug, and put the 
screaming baby by to greet his friend and pa- 
tron. 

“ Ah, my lord tribune, you have caught me 
without my visor!” he cried merrily; to which 
Aulus quickly made reply: 

“ But thank the gods I am not an enemy!” 

Their greeting was warm and brotherly, and 
they placed themselves side by side, ready for 
intimate discourse. 

Age had not greatly changed cither’s appear- 
ance. Hector had broadened, and his bearing 
was distinctly military. Aulus was lined more 
with dissipation than with years, but his easy, 
carelessly good-natured air still clung to him. 
Both were handsome men, and. one in his official 
purple, the other in his military scarlet, at- 
tracted admiration everywhere. They flung a 
kiss after the grieving child, as she was ruth- 
lessly borne away by her nurse, then Aulus 
turned and fixed his keen eyes directly upon 
Hector with the abrupt question: 

“ Have you heard the news?” 

“ No; what is it?” 

“ Nero Caesar and his mother, the Augusta, 
have had another bitter quarrel this evening, 
and she has threatened to leave the palace this 
very night. She is now in her apartments talk- 
ing excitedly with her maids, and I have been 
privately requested to bring you to the tri- 
clinium, where Nero still remains, that he may 
give you some orders.” 

“ To what purpose?” asked Hector quickly, 
knitting his brows. “ What would he with the 
mother who raised him to the throne of the 
Caesars?” 

“ I know not,” answered Aulus gloomily, “ but 
he is purple with rage and drinking more 
heavily than usual. I am told it went so far 
that he even snatched off a precious amulet she 
gave him the night he was declared Emperor, 
and flung it in her face, saying he would have 
none of the good fortune it brought if she must 
be always taunting him with having received it 
through her.” 

“Bah! He was intoxicated.” 

“ No, the meal had scarcely begun. He has 
been gracious all day, and sent for Agrippina 


61 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


find his poor little wife to banquet with him. I 
presume it is the same trouble. He wanted 
some favor for Poppoea, and that always makes 
the Augusta furious. But come, the Emperor 
awaits you.” 

While thus conversing Hector had been 
swiftly exchanging his .easy, ungirdled house- 
tunic for tjie military costume he must always 
wear on duty or iu the presence of the Court, 


to be trusted here? Well, friend, I must cover 
your eyes simply because I am to take you in by 
a secret passage which you are not to know — 
that is all.” 

Hector was still frowning. “ Secret passages 
lead to dungeons— and worse!” he muttered. 

“ Oh, come, my bold soldier, you have nothing 
to fear. You are not yet high enough to excite 
the jealousy of Caesar, so be at peace, and thank 



and soon, trimly girdled, helmeted, and bus- 
kined, he followed his noble friend across nu- 
merous courts and gardens of artistic beauty to 
the rose terrace, a magnificent enclosure near 
that part of the palace occupied by its head. 
Connecting with this was a small court, palm- 
shaded and fountain-cooled, and before enter- 
ing this Aulus stopped and took from his bosom 
a large kerchief. 

“ I am ordered to blindfold you,” he remarked 
quietly. 

“What?” cried Hector, drawing back with 
the quick suspicion engendered by the trickery 
of the age. “ Why say you that?” 

Aulus laughed a little at the other’s manner, 
and went on calmly folding the linen square. 

“ Do you not trust even me, Hector?” he asked 
with a hint of sadness in his tone. “ But then, 
Why should you?” he added quickly, “Who is 


Mars that you are only a centurion. Bend 
lower, please; I cannot reach yon.” 

Hector obeyed, but still with dissatisfaction, 
and after being tightly bandaged, was led some 
distance and by many turns to a small door in 
the wall, guarded only by one sentinel, who 
stood inside, and admitted them after hearing 
a peculiar knock— four slow, distinct taps for 
the word Nero, and a loud and imperative 
one at the end for his title, Caesar— whereupon 
the door flew open instantly. 

Traversing what was, could Hector have seen, 
a long and narrow corridor, with no light ex- 
cept from lamps kept ever burning, they turned 
into another at right angles to it, crossed this 
obliquely, and stopped at a door, where Aulus 
whispered the password into another sentinel’s 
ear, then pressed his thumb upon one of the 
panels, at which the door flew open, The sen- 


62 


THE WEE STL EE OF PHILIPPI. 


tinel stepped respectfully aside, Aulus drew his 
companion through the narrow aperture, and it 
clicked to behind them. Hector drew in his 
breath a little at the sound. He had heard that 
ominous click many a time when he had been 
on the right side of the door, and some poor 
wretch upon the other, and it thrilled him now 
to the finger tips. 

“ Take off your bandage,” said Aulus in his re- 
assuringly calm voice; and the Greek obeyed. 

He looked about upon a rather small apart- 
ment, surrounded by statuary, the panels be- 
tween the full-length figures being cut into 
niches. These were fitted with doors of rich 
citron-wood carved into the fineness of lace- 
work, through which he could catch glimpses of 
rolls and mounted sheets of papyrus, the former 
slipped into cases of burnished gold, delicately- 
carved ivory, satin-wood, or embossed leather, 
the latter, called tablets, stacked up and 
held in place by weights of carnelian, agate, or 
malachite. It was, indeed, the tablinum, or 
room for the preservation of the family ar- 
chives, and was approached by this secret pas- 
sage from one side, while from the other it 
opened into the larger bibliotheca, or library, a 
handsome apartment, more for show than use 
in this palace. At right angles was a curtained 
archway which gave a long vista of rich apart- 
ments for family use, and opposite that was the 
door leading into Caesar's private triclinium, 
or dining-room. 

The secret door through which the men had 
entered was now invisible. Hector’s roving gaze 
could neither place it nor conjecture where it 
might be, for before removing the bandage 
he had been given a whirl or two, and knew not 
which way he was faced upon entering. 
The door, in fact, was what appeared to be one 
of the niches for the books, and was known to 
only a very few in the palace. Even the guards 
in the passage were led thence blindfolded, by a 
trusty officer, and had little idea of its situation. 
In such ways do corrupt rulers think to estab- 
lish themselves in security upon their toppling 
thrones! 

Our friends stepped along the tablinum to the 
door of the banqueting room, from which issued 
sounds of an angry voice, and occasional laugh- 
ter. Aulus swept aside its heavy curtain, mo- 
tioned to the page, and the two were at once 
ushered into the presence of that Emperor 
whom a fawning populace was taught to wor- 
ship as a god. He looked little enough like 
it now. He lay sprawling on a couch gorgeous 
with gilding and Persian stuffs, evidently 
satiated with food and helpless with wine. 
Upon other couches scarcely less splendid 
were stretched two of his favorites, their 
garments and jewels vying with his own in 
richness, and their countenances bloated with 
overfeeding and drinking. The room was softly 
lighted with gilded lamps, and a shower of per- 
fumed waters fell in a soft spray from a small 


fountain just within the half-circle made by the 
crescent-shaped table. This table was heaped 
with every delicacy, served on gold and silver 
plate, and velvet-shod slaves passed to and fro, 
handing about the viands and instantly remov- 
ing the stains of wine carelessly spilled by the 
intoxicated men. Nero, was talking fast and' 
furiously, while tfte others sometimes laughed,, 
sometimes applauded, with drunken gravity. 

The couches on which the women had rested’ 
for the short time their presence was allowed,, 
were pushed back out of the way, and just as 
our friends entered, Nero was amusing himself 
and ending a sentence by flinging at the 
Augusta’s a full wine-glass, which shattered 
against its woodwork and ruined its gold-em- 
broidered cushions. 

This ought to have relieved him, but evidently 
did not, for, seeing the two new-comers bowing 
low before him, he jerked himself to a sitting 
posture and began swearing at them, while 
each— inwardly fuming though he was— could 
only bow the deeper, and meekly submit to the 
indignity. 

When Nero’s fury had expended itself some- 
what, he cried abruptly: 

“Well, speak, can you not? What have you 
come for, Aulus?” 

“ To bring the centurion Hector, as Caesar 
commanded, ' returned the patrician as shortly 
as he dared. 

“I commanded? Who says so?” 

Evidently the fumes of wine had beclouded 
his memory for the moment. Tigellinus, bold- 
est of his favorites, laughed and said ironically: 

“ How convenient is a short memory! Has 
Caesar forgotten his grievance, also?” 

“ No!” bellowed the royal son, as he thought 
of his mother’s defiance of his wishes, and stern 
admonitions of his folly. “ No, and now I re- 
member all. I sent for Hector because he be- 
longs to my guards.” 

“ Assuredly, Caesar.” 

“ But I do not need you, Aulus. Get out, 
will you!” 

The coarse command made the haughty young 
patrician turn white, but he must needs swallow 
his chagrin, bow low, and back out, almost pros- 
trating himself at every step. He accomplished 
the feat with outward equanimity, but Aulus 
Clotius never forgot that thickly-uttered order, 
nor the sneering laugh from the two favorites 
that followed his withdrawal. It was perhaps 
his first real rebuff, but by no means his last, 
for Nero was already growing jealous of his 
musical talent, which threatened to surpass his 
own, not to speak of the favor with which the 
populace always greeted the brave young 
officer. He had been vaguely made 1 to feel the 
royal displeasure in various ways, but this was 
the first actual rebuff, and even Nero would not 
have gone so far but for his inflamed condition, 
which made him scarcely accountable for what 
he said. 


63 


The wbestleb of bhiliffl 


“Gome* forward!’’ he Commanded as Aldus' 
disappeared; and Hector, fired with indighatioii 
for hid friend, slowly approached the loyal 
Couch; 

“ I want to look at you,” said the Emperor 
with a. hiccough; “ I want to see what stuff yoii 
are made of;” 

Hector stood motionless, almost expression- 
less, under the imperial scrutiny; Long practice 
as a guard had made it possible for him to seem 
more like a statue than a man. 

“ Well, you will do, inethinks,” said Nero at 
last, with a laugh, “ My beloved mother, the 
Augusta,” (the words were a sneer) “ wishes to 
leave the palace to-night, and I, Caesar, desire 
that she should do so. She must of course be 
properly attended. See that she is. Do you 
understand ? ,? 

Hector bowed low, his hand at his visor. 
Given permission to speak, he asked defer- 
entially: 

“ Does Caesar desire that the Augusta shall 
have a guard in addition to those in her own em- 
ploy?” 

“Yes, Caesar does!” mimicked the emperor in 
the tone of a hectoring child, for Nero could not 
be kingly when he was intoxicated. “ If her 
guards should grow quarrelsome on the road 
and the Augusta be in danger, overpower them 
with your stronger guard and make her safe 
and quiet. Do you follow me?” 

Hector repressed a shiver of loathing, and 
bowed assentingly. 

“ Then act! A good servant does not need 
specific directions; he allows circumstances 10 
aid him. Given a lonely night road, one or two 
women in litters, and a lot of drunken guards 
ready for a fight, and what chance will there 
be for those women, eh?” 

The leer which accompanied these words filled 
Hector, hardened as he was, with horror. For 
an instant his fingers fairly tingled with the de- 
sire to throttle the ruffian who could so coolly 
plan for the death of a mother who had been the 
sole instigator of his present elevation. But life 
was precious to him, and he knew that but an 
adverse look would jeopardize it— for it meant 
little to Nero to order the execution of a refrac- 
tory centurion ! 

The Greek swallowed his wrath, glad that he 
had no cause to speak and thus betray himself, 
and bowed to the ground. Nero beckoned him 
nearer, spoke a few rapid sentences in a lower 
tone, then with a careless wave of his jeweled 
hand dismissed him, after which he lifted the 
richly-colored glass of Falernian wine to his lips 
with as much unction as if he had not just or- 
dered the murder of the mother who bore him! 

Hector bowed himself from the room, the ob- 
sequious, well-trained servant outwardly— the 
disgusted, rebellious officer within. But luckily 
for him Nero never looked below the surface, 
and at that date had not dreamed that any 
would dare defy him. 


CHAPTER XX. 

CLiiOTAS. 

A ULUS was Waiting in the tablinum, still 
white and cold from his rebuff. Silently 
he again bandaged Hector’s eyes before 
leading him outside, and not a word was spoken 
until in the outer court once more, when, snatch- 
ing off the kerchief, he asked with a grim smile: 
“Well, is she to be murdered?” 

Hector started. It Was ah ugly word to use in 
reference to a royal commission. But he an- 
swered as bluntly: 

“ That is the substance of it— yes. I am to at- 
tend her with my guards, and when they get 
into a tumult—” 

“ Who get into a tumult?” 

“ Her soldiers and mine.” 

“Oh, I see!” laughing shortly. “Well, when 
they do?” 

“ Then she and her women are to be— dis- 
patched,” was the gloomy answer. 

“ It is a nice commission!” observed Aulus sar- 
castically. “ I do not envy you. How will you 
do it? The knife on the battle-axe?” 

“ The latter. It will look more as if the men 
did the deed in desperation, simply to stop their 
screams. Her guards are then to be over- 
powered, bound, and brought back to be charged 
with the crime, while my men receive a sester- 
tium apiece for their brave defense of her.” 

Aulus laughed outright. “How ingenious! 
Nero never thought that out — it came from the 
fertile brain of Tigellinus. And the centurion 
of this brave band, my friend Hector, how much 
does he receive?” 

“ Ten sestercia,” was the. prompt reply; but 
in the tone was all the self-loathing Hector felt 
over the horrid deed. 

Aulus turned and looked at him. “ It is not the 
work for soldiers, friend.” 

“ No, 1 can meet the lances of the Bedouins 
with coolness, but this work gives me a hor- 
ror,” assented the Greek with fervor. 

“ Do you know,” said the tribune in a different 
tone, “ 1 believe there is only one man in this 
palace who cannot be bought by Nero’s gold.” 
“ And who is that?” 

“ He is an officer lately sent here with dis- 
patches from Philippi, and his name is Cleotas— 
a tall, brave, lionest-eyed fellow. Nero, as you 
know, enjoys brow-beating these ministers from 
the provincial towns, so he began asking him 
about the Christians there, and said in that hate- 
ful, tantalizing manner of his, 4 1 hear you have 
a large and flourishing church of that sect— how 
is this?’ Cleotas answered him respectfully that 
they were indeed flourishing, and it was doubt- 
less owing to the fact that some good men had 
labored there, converting many. Then Caesar 
began telling him that such a report put the city 
in a bad light with the government, and added, 
‘ We shall expect you and your Duumvirs to 


64 


THE WRESTLE R OF PHILIPPI. 


see that this religion does not spread further, for 
we have no sympathy with it; and as for these 
“ good men ” you speak of, if they are like that 
Paulus of whom we are constantly advised as 
stirring up the people all through that region, 
the less we hear and see of them the better. Put 
fill such seditions down with a firm hand.’ And 
then what does that bold Macedonian do but an- 
swer, k Then let Caesar appoint a new officer to 
serve in my place, for I, Cleotas, am a Christian 
also.’ The words fairly took us off our feet! 
Even Nero started on his throne. Everybody 
looked to see the foolhardy ambassador ordered 
to a dungeon at once, and the guards grasped 
their short swords involuntarily, when, to the 
astonishment of the whole assembly, Nero burst 
out into a good-natured laugh. ‘ You evidently 
are not used to courts, my rustic friend,’ he said 
leniently, ‘ and Caesar will appoint when and 
whom he chooses. For the present Cleotas of 
Macedonia holds the office, and must exercise it 
in all justice to our advantage.’ The man bowed 
low, but before he could speak again, I, who had 
attended him to the audience room, began my 
retreat, making him an imperative sign to fol- 
low, for I had no notion to stay there till I saw 
the bold, true-hearted fellow consigned to the 
torture. When I had him safely outside I mut- 
tered, ‘ For Jupiter’s sake. Cleotas, how dared 
you? Men have been flung to the beasts for 
less!’ ” 

“ And what did he say?” asked Hector, deeply 
interested. 

“ He coolly told me he knew that per- 
fectly well, but he had no fear; his Master was 
a greater than Caesar, and ‘ Him only should lie 
serve.’ ” 

“ But the strange thing is that the Emperor 
should take it in that way,” mused Hector. 
“ He is not wont to be so easy with men.” 

“True enough! I heard, however, that he 
said afterwards to Burrhus that he was so sick 
of fawning and flattery that the fellow’s bold- 
ness seemed quite refreshing; and he certainly 
is letting him go without further instructions 
against the Christians. I suppose even Nero 
has his better moments.” 

“ Is the man still here, then?” asked Hector 
quickly. “ I would like to see a countryman 
once more, and such a brave one! Where can he 
be found, my lord?” 

“ He is lodged in one of the towers — I can 
show you the place. But have you the time? 
When does the Augusta start?” 

“ Of that I cannot be certain. One is appointed 
to watch and let me know. Meanwhile- 1 have 
but to order my guards to be in readiness, and 
wait in my rooms for the word. If only he 
would come to see me there!” 

“And why not? I will apprize him of your 
wish, and, if he is not too hurried, bring him 
with me.” 

“ Ah, my lord; you are always more than kind 
to me.’’ 


“ And take it out of you in return whenever 
possible!” laughed Aulus, as with a wave of 
liis hand he hurried away in one direction, leav- 
ing Hector to proceed quickly in the other. 

The latter had not been long in his own atrium 
when, with a flourish, the little page announced 
the two guests. With his heart beating unac- 
countably our centurion arose and stepped for- 
ward to greet his fellow-townsman. He saw a 
tall, frank, keen-eyed man of something over 
thirty, with an expression denoting good-humor 
and firmness in about equal proportions. The 
two greeted each other with warmth and soon 
were deep in talk, Hector eagerly asking, and 
Cleotas fully answering, questions about 
Philippi in general and some of its inhabitants 
in particular. 

When they had talked some time Hector ob- 
served slowly, with a long sigh: 

“ I was very happy there! I should never 
have left, but for the loss of my sister.” 

“ She died, then?” asked Cleotas sympa- 
thetically. 

“ I could almost say I hope so, though I do not 
know,” returned Hector in a tone of deep sad- 
ness. Then, as if impelled by some impulse 
stronger than his usual reticence about private 
matters, he repeated in detail the story of that 
eventful night. 

The two men listened in perfect silence— 
Aulus with the peculiar air of deprecating sym- 
pathy he always wore when the matter was re- 
ferred to; Cleotas with his keen eyes fixed upon 
Hector, wonder and conviction growing in their 
depths. The latter had barely finished when 
the Philippian broke out excitedly: 

“You say this happened over six years ago? 
Her name— what was your sister called?” 

“ Salome,” was the answer. 

“ And you— why, of course, you are Hector!” 

He sprang to his feet, and, his host having also 
risen in a vague astonishment, clasped him in 
a close embrace, after the warm oriental 
fashion. 

“ My brother!” he cried. “ Know that Salome 
lives, is well and happy, and is my own fondly 
loved and greatly honored wife!” 

Hector could not believe his senses, and for a 
minute the demonstrations of joy and relief 
from Aulus Clotius quite overpowered his own. 

“ Do you not understand, Hector? I have al- 
ways told you she was not abducted— that she 
must have escaped to safety Where is your 
tongue, friend — can you not speak?” 

No, for a time Hector, strong man that he was, 
had all he could do to battle with his emotions, 
and it was Aulus, full of excitement and inter- 
est, who asked the questions trembling on his 
lips. 

When Hector learned all, and fully realized 
that Salome owed rescue, Care, protection, main- 
tenance, and a marriage far beyond his expecta- 
tions for her, to the despised Christians alone, 
he was deeply touched, and the softening influ- 


THE WBESTLEB OF PTIILIPPL 


65 


cnees of that almost forgotten night in prison, 
when the earthquake proved a friend, returned 
to him. Their talk was long, rapid, and ab- 
sorbing. For a time Hector even forgot the 
hideous commission which soon must claim him. 
A messenger from his company, who came to 
ask special instructions regarding the armor to 
be worn, brought it all back once more, and he 
was obliged to turn with an awful sense of 
wretchedness and loathing from the life of 
purity, love, simplicity, and faith, which Cleotas 
had been depicting, to the depths of deceit and 
crime in which he himself had so long been sub- 
merged. 

In that moment of tenderness, of revived 
affection, of intense longing, his life stood out 
clear in all its wickedness, and his inmost soul 
recoiled. Yet to-night he must compass a crime 
more horrible, more unnatural, more revolting, 
than any yet required of him. He must murder 
a woman, a mother, at the behest of a son who 
owed to her alone the imperial power he was 
now wielding against her. While still tingling 
with the delight of finding his own sister safe 
and well, he must steel himself to make way. 
by brutal means, with another man’s mother! 
The thought grew unbearable, and cold drops 
stood out upon his brow as he realized the hide- 
ousness of his position. 

Of course, to Cleotas this emotion was ac- 
countable only as the result of his own surpris- 
ing news; but Aulus, knowing all the facts, felt 
it must be more than that, and was not aston- 
ished when the sudden appearance of the little 
page, to announce another messenger in wait- 
ing, made Hector leap from his place, and ex- 
claim in broken accents: 

“ Oh, I cannot, cannot do it!” 

Aulus looked after him with concern. Cleotas 
with mild surprise, as he hurried from the cham- 
ber to the anteroom, to confer alone with the 
man. 

Shortly he re-entered, his face now radiant, 
his manner tilled with joyful relief. Aulus stood 
up quickly, a question in his eyes— what could 
have happened? 

Hector threw him a look. “ Something 1 have 
been dreading is averted,” he said aloud in par- 
tial explanation, for Cleotas also seemed curi- 
ous; then as he passed close by Aulus he man- 
aged to whisper: “ She is not going— the augu- 
ries -were not propitious!” 

Aulus understood, and his face broke into 
smiles of amused relief. 

“ Another case of a woman’s changing her 
mind!” he thought in his satirical fashion. “ For 
once it has worked well. I must own.” Then 
aloud, and in a careless tone: “ No one can tell 
how many disagreeable duties occur in the life 
of a centurion— and not the least of these are his 
long night services. I am glad for you, Hector, 
if you can rest to-night.” 

Hector bowed his head comprehendingly, and 
turned to Cleotas. 


“ I shall see you on shipboard to-morrow, but 
you must come in the morning and with us 
break the fast. I want you to see my wife and 
children, and take to Salome our love, and 
whatever gifts we can secure in the short time 
allowed us. And to-night, brother, when you 
pray to your God in the name of the Christ, re- 
member me, for I am beset with temptations, 
and life is hard for a soldier who is at the beck 
of royal masters!” 

Cleotas nodded brightly. “ I know all that, 
and I used sometimes to feel I was as much a 
slave as any bondman of them all. But now it 
is different, for Christ has made me free. I do 
what I know is right, and no man, be he Caesar 
himself, can make me do otherwise.” 

“ But how dare you? Here the least word of 
rebellion will doom us to scourgings or torture.” 

“ I take the risk,” said Cleotas calmly. “ For 
I do all through Christ who gives me strength. 
Ah! if you could talk with our beloved Luke, or 
with our brave and glorious Paul, or indeed with 
sweet Elizabeth, sister and friend of our 
Salome, you would quickly understand. For, 
you see, it is God working in us, and \^e have 
only to let Him influence us, and leave all results 
in His hands. I am but a bluff official, not given 
to eloquence, and so can best honor Christ 
by sturdy deeds; but these I have mentioned not 
only act the Christian part, but win others with 
loving and appropriate words. However, 
brother, I can pray for you, as Jesus taught us 
how to do that; and w T hen I ask each day that 
you be ‘ led not into temptation, but delivered 
from evil,’ my prayer will be heard and an- 
swered. Only hold yourself in readiness to be 
blessed and helped.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

TREACHERY IN THE HOME. 

T IME did not improve matters in the palace. 
Nero’s peace with his mother, after the 
disgraceful scene of the banquet, was not 
long-lived, and less than four months later, in 
the spring of the same year, the poor woman fell 
a victim to his hatred and her own ambitions. 

Nero had managed, by alternately coaxing and 
harassing, to induce her to depart to her country 
seat at Antium, where, after plotting her death 
by drowning— which plan proved a failure 
through her quickness and knowledge of swim- 
ming — she was put to the sword by Caesar’s 
minions; a murder in which Seneca was unwill- 
ingly involved, to his lasting discredit, but from 
which Hector escaped as participator, he being 
just then needed in Rome to help quell a riot 
among the people, caused by an unexpected and 
exorbitant tax being suddenly laid upon them 
by command of their extravagant Emperor. 


66 


THE WEE STEER OF Fill LI PPL 


A little matter of that kind was soon crushed 
out, however, and Nero, relieved of his most 
daring admonisher, liis mother, prepared to 
assert his will and give rein to his passion with- 
out a thought of consequences. His divorce of 
Octavia, his pure and fair young wife, and the 
attempt to cover her with public dishonor, which 
even he could not carry through against the out- 
raged sense of the people, was the next event 
in the reign of this tyrant, and was almost im- 
mediately followed by his mock marriage to 
Poppcea, the beautiful but unscrupulous woman 
who proved the bane of all who loved her. 

Poppcea did not favor Aulus Clotius. She had 
an old grudge against him, and was quick to 
perceive Nero’s jealousy of the man. This she 
used every subtle art to inflame into hatred. 
Nero was ready enough to respond to all un- 
generous impulses, but the young patrician 
stood too high to be lightly thrust aside just 
now, when the temper of the multitude had been 
greatly tried, so the Emperor contented him- 
self with dealing him one or two blows that 
greatly hurt his pride and crippled his am- 
bition. Aulus, who had been for some time 
commander of a cohort, fully expected to be 
made general of a legion as soon as circum- 
stances rendered ,the promotion possible, and 
great was his chagrin to see a far less able man 
given the command, while he was appointed 
praetor instead, an office civil rather than mili- 
tary, which confined him in Rome, and was to 
him an almost empty honor; for, being the 
youngest of the praetors, he would have little 
voice even in judicial matters. 

Though the pill was coated with fair words 
and the assurance that it was given only to 
keep him a fixture at court, Aulus thoroughly 
understood it, and felt all its bitterness, as he 
put aside his helmet and donned his robe of 
office, for he knew that from this hour his for- 
tunes would begin a sure decline. Besides, he 
loved his soldier’s life and loathed the squabbles 
and defeats which made up the judiciary coun- 
cils of the day, and his soul grew sick at thought 
of the degradation there must be in pretending 
to rule under a tyrant who was also devoid of 
common sense. But his wife and mother se- 
cretly rejoiced that he was thus spared to them 
in safe citizenship, not appreciating the inner 
circumstances which made the civil life galling 
to a man like himself. 

The next rebuff was a curt order to vacate 
his apartments in the palace, as they were re- 
quired for a friend of the new empress; and the 
family made haste to repair to the old home 
near by, which Aulus wished only had been 
further away. 

Hector loyally requested permission to go with 
them, and even as Aulus admonished him for 
thus jeopardizing his own fortunes by cling- 
ing to an unpopular master, his eyes glit- 
tered with moisture while he wrung his hench- 
man’s hand, touched to the heart by his devo- 


tion. To repay him, Aulus fitted up some of the 
best apartments in one of the quadrangles about 
the inner peristyle, where the fountain was al- 
ways playing, the rooms occupied by Pamphylia 
and her women being opposite, while the family 
and state apartments were nearer the street and 
opened upon a larger court. Here Hector felt 
himself thoroughly at home, and believed that 
he could breathe more freely than in the tainted 
atmosphere of a palace desecrated by so many 
royal murders. 

After the visit of Cleotas he could not rest 
until he had managed to bring him, with Salome 
and the three little ones, to Rome, and Aulus 
now kindly furthered the plan by offering to 
appoint Cleotas his lictor primus, or head at- 
tendant and man of affairs, who would give 
orders to the rest of the household, assist in 
judicial proceedings, and always ride at the 
shoulder of the praetor, in distinction from the 
two common lictors who ran in advance, to clear 
the street and command the respectful homage 
of the crowd for their master. 

It was a great day for the little household at 
Philippi when Cleotas received, by special 
courier, letters from Aulus Clotius and Hector, 
detailing this plan, and furthering it by sending 
a special guard to conduct them hither, and 
Salome could scarcely await the necessary de- 
lays of preparation when she remembered that 
she was really to see her beloved Hector once 
more. She hurried to tell Elizabeth the news, 
and was astonished to have it received with a 
burst of tears. 

“ Why, Elizabeth — sister — what is it?” cried 
Salome, in real distress. “ Surely you must be 
glad to think I shall be re-united to one of my 
dear brothers at last.” 

“Oh, indeed— indeed I am!” cried Elizabeth, 
struggling with her tears. “ Only, I shall miss 
you so, Salome! I always receive comfort from 
talking with you, and you cannot realize how 
dear you have become to me.” 

“ Dearest friend,” whispered Salome, kneeling 
beside the older woman, and drawing the weary, 
weeping face to her breast, “ I can, because I 
know how much you are to me. Would that 
you might go with us! If — ” She checked her- 
self, then went on quickly: “ We will leave 
Nadab in a position to assist you in every way, 
and we shall not forget you, even if so far off, 
Elizabeth — you know that?” 

“Yes, I know. You were going to say, ‘If 
Junius were different’?” looking up with a 
glance that she tried to make composed. 
“ Salome, God is long in answering me, but I 
feel sure He will— sure! But just now I am 
greatly cast down, for my husband has been 
away two days and nights, and though I sent 
Nadab, he could not find him in any of the usual 
haunts. I fear— I scarcely know what.” 

“ Elizabeth,” said the younger woman, after 
a thoughtful silence, “ you remember what I 
told you of Nero Caesar's words respecting the 


67 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


Christians here, when the illness of Tuema 
caused Cleotas to be sent to Rome with the dis- 
patches?” 

“ Yes, I remember. Caesar has never liked 
our worship, and persecutions have been fre- 
quent; but he was lenient with your husband, 
and so far here in Philippi we have been un- 
molested.” 

“ Yes, so far. But see what the good Paul 
has been made to suffer. Then, too, there are 
rumors that many have been put to the ques- 
tion in Rome. Cleotas, who knows all that is 
taking place here, says there are people acting 
as paid spies to discover something against us 
ever since the last edict forbidding our assem- 
bling together, or practicing our ceremonies. 
He does not know just who they all are, but—” 

Elizabeth started and turned a pallid face 
upon her. The eyes of the two met — in one an 
agonized question, in the other a sad and reluc- 
tant affirmation. Elizabeth clutched her 
friend’s arm and shook it in a passion of denial. 

“No, no, Salome! He could not— he would 
not! He has had money lately, but he declares 
he earned it tending the wine shop for Haeram. 
Do not tel! me — ” She sank back, half faint- 
ing. 

Salome’s eyes had not withdrawn their asser- 
tion; they had only drooped with regret and 
sorrow, and Elizabeth knew from her manner 
that the unspoken charge was but too well 
founded, or it would never have been brought 
up. But the wife could not talk of it, and 
quickly changed the subject by asking some 
question regarding Salome’s departure. 

This took place a few weeks later, and when 
Elizabeth — who, with Nadab, had accompanied 
them as far as Neapolis — watched the dingy 
lateen-sail spread to the breeze and slowly clear 
the harbor, she turned away forlorn and lonely, 
feeling that life would be but the more difficult 
in future. But the sensation could not secure a 
firm hold upon her even then. Before she and 
her son were half way back to Philippi she was 
again resting on the promises of Christ, and be- 
hind the impenetrable armor qf her faith was 
serenely facing all that life might have in store 
for them. 

“ ‘ I will never leave thee nor forsake tliee,’ ” 
she whispered in her loneliness; and feeling for 
the hand of Christ, was comforted. 

Lydia was now about the only friend to whom 
she could turn in trouble, and she was denied 
frequent communication with her because 
Junius so disliked her. He had never pardoned 
the severe reproof the strong woman had given 
him about the time his insignia of office was 
taken from him, and he sullenly resented every 
favor she bestowed upon his needy household, 
secretly cursing her because of her good fortune, 
independence, and honesty, and well knowing- 
how poor a thing he must seem in her energetic 
eyes. So Lydia seldom came to the little home, 
except for the religious services often held in its 


upper room, while Elizabeth rarely ventured 
to arouse the wrath of her husband by going to 
her friend. 

The new fear that now tortured the poor 
woman day and night lurked in the question: 
“Is Junius really spying upon us?” 

She wished, now it was too late, that she had 
asked questions, had insisted on knowing why 
Cleotas suspected him, had indignantly denied 
it all to the end. She looked at Junius often as 
he came and went, taciturn, gloomy, and for- 
bidding in expression, and wished she dared 
broach the subject and have all these tantaliz- 
ing doubts set at rest. But she was always 
dumb before him, afraid to evoke the surly tem- 
per which never lost its power to wound her 
sensitiveness. 

So passed some little time, during which 
Junius was away often for days together, while 
his wife, sick with doubts and torn with con- 
flicting duties, could live only by creeping closer 
to the heart of Jesus and resting her burden 
upon Him. If there was danger, she felt she 
ought to warn the little congregation; but how 
could she tell them she suspected her own hus- 
band of being a spy? In her anguish, one day, 
she forgot her gospel of trust, and, growing 
terrified in her human weakness, sought out 
Lydia and, on some flimsy pretext, begged her 
to have the meetings held in her home for a 
time. 

She hoped in this way to avert the vague dan- 
ger, but she simply hastened what she meant 
to hinder. The man had means of learning what 
he wished to know, and when he found that the 
Christians assembled at the house of the woman 
whom he hated, he felt that he now had every- 
thing in his own hands. He would never have 
allowed his own home to be molested— he could 
ask no better revenge than causing the arrest 
in Lydia’s house. 

But as time went on and nothing happened. 
Elizabeth began to feel more secure. She told 
herself that Salome had mistaken her news, or 
Cleotas had suspected without cause. It was 
always easier for her loving heart to exonerate 
than to blame her husband, and now in her re- 
morse at doubting him, she grew kinder and 
more forbearing than ever, being repaid only 
by a neglect which was so much better than 
brutal notice that it had almost ceased to 
wound. She had not given up attending the 
meetings when possible, though she would never 
go when Junius was at home, lest he should fol- 
low and do mischief. One night, after he had 
gone out as usual, she rose to wrap herself in 
her chlamys, then stopped, hesitating and nerv- 
ous, scarcely knowing whether to go or stay. 
On one hand was the command of the Master, 

“ Cease not the assembling of yourselves to- 
gether;” on the other, an intangible reluctance 
which had seized upon her so strongly as for the 
moment to smother her serenity and trust. 

Often a vague fear is harder to bear than an 


68 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


actual clanger. Soldiers who never flinch in a 
hand-to-hand conflict with sword and spear 
will waver, sway, and perhaps break into panic- 
stricken flight under a far lighter and more 
scattering fire of arrows from a concealed 
enemy, of whose numbers they have no idea. So 
Elizabeth wavered, hesitated, and sat down, 
powerless to go, wretched to stay. While in this 
state of indecision Junius suddenly stood before 
her. She had not heard a sound until she looked 
up to meet his gaze, that seemed to burn her 
with its intensity. She felt a glad relief at the 
sight of him, then quickly noted two things— he 
was not intoxicated, he was excited. His eyes 
were bright, sharp, restless, his manner alert 
and watchful. 

“ Were you going out?” he asked abruptly, 
glancing at the long scarf which she had thrown 
across the couch in her moment of indecision. 

She thought that he suspected her— meant to 
follow her, perhaps— and she answered truth- 
fully: 

“ No. I had thought of it, but was about giv- 
ing it up. I am a little tired and nervous.” 

He nodded. “ I shall not be back to-night,” 
he said in a crisp voice, utterly unlike his usual 
slow, thick utterance. “ Do not sit up for me. 
Bar the door carefully, and put your lights out 
early. Some of the garrison are making holiday 
over news from Rome.” 

He left as abruptly as he had entered, and she 
thought sadly: 

“ Ah, I see! He has been asked to sup with 
the officers and is pleased with the honor. He 
means to be out with them all night. What 
will he be like to-morrow?” 

She sighed, and threw herself down on the 
couch. She was lonely, sad, heart-broken. 
Tears welled up into her eyes and overflowed; 
sighs rose to her lips and broke in sobs. She 
needed consolation, companionship. She longed 
for the little service where, if even two or three 
were gathered in His name, they were assured 
of His presence in their midst. “ Why should 
I not go?” she thought desperately. “ I am not 
so afraid of the streets as of those in my own 
home. Junius will never know nor care where 1 
am while he is feasting and drinking.” 

She rose, dashed aside the tears, and quickly 
wound herself in the long chlamys, covering 
head and face except the eyes, then, locking the 
door behind her, slipped like a shadow through 
the quiet streets, until Lydia’s house was 
reached. 

But Junius was not at a banquet. Through a 
treacherous slave in Lydia’s employ he knew all 
that was necessary to his purpose. The Chris- 
tians were to have a forbidden meeting there, 
that night, and the leader of the service was to 
be the keeper of the jail, whom Junius hated as 
he did Lydia, and for much the same reason. 
He would have an opportunity to strike a blow 
at them both by betraying them to certain 
Roman officers who had orders against this 


“ seditious sect,” and by betraying them he 
could fully avenge his wounded self-esteem — 
the one really strong characteristic left to him 
after years of besotting indulgence. Only, lie 
must be certain Elizabeth was not there. Low 
as he had fallen, morose and cruel as he often 
was, the nobler part of him still loved and hon- 
ored his wife, fully appreciating that she was 
his best earthly friend. Elizabeth must be 
spared. 

So, before communicating with the officers, he 
had hastened home to assure himself of his 
wife’s safe presence there, and upon leaving her 
had gone at once to the Romans. 

The immunity which Nero had previously 
granted the Christians had been rather through 
indolence than tolerance. He was too busy with 
his spectacles and personal competition in the 
musical festivals to care for so obscure a sect. 
But Poppoea, whose influence was now supreme, 
had her reasons for favoring the Jews, and the 
influential of these were constantly stirring up 
the government to sterner measures against the 
followers of the Christ they had repudiated. 
They told the most shocking stories of the 
Christians’ rites and practices. The breaking 
of bread and drinking of wine “ in remem- 
brance” were construed into an actual feeding 
upon human flesh and blood, and infants were 
said to be stolen for this revolting ceremony. 
Other dark practices were imputed to them, 
and the constant charge of conspiracy against 
the throne was waved in Nero’s face whenever 
he neededvspecial rousing. A late edict had for- 
bidden the Christians every privilege of wor- 
ship, and the decree had been lately brought to 
Philippi by Roman couriers, while Roman 
officers were instructed to enforce it to the utter- 
most. Hence what Junius looked upon as his 
opportunity. 

When, after leaving Elizabeth, as he thought, 
safely housed for the night, he hurried back to 
the Castle, it was but to meet with unexpected 
delays. The decurion who led the men detailed 
for this work was not at first to be found, and an 
hour slipped by before the detachment was 
ready for service. But at length, guided by this 
new Judas, they started on a brisk march down 
into the city, choosing little-frequented streets 
to avoid stirring up a crowd. 

When they were near the pleasant home of 
Lydia they broke ranks, and after a short con- 
sultation with the treacherous slave who had 
been won by bribes, they were one by one se- 
cretly admitted into the enclosed garden, 
where they could surround the house. 

Here, as they stood in the deep shadow await- 
ing further orders, the men could plainly hear 
the sound of soft, sweet singing from some 
upper room, at which they wondered, for it 
scarcely seemed a suitable accompaniment to 
the hideous ceremonies imputed to the obscure 
sect. They caught words suggesting truth, sin- 
cerity, purity, but not cannibalism, and one 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


hobneted figure jogged his neighbor to whisper: 
“ Do they first charm the victim before they kill 
it?” 

Elizabeth had found only few at the meeting, 
but the moment she had received their gentle 
greeting, “ Peace be with you,” her sore spirit 
felt lightened of its griefs, and she was thank- 
ful she had come. 

r l he jailer did not, for some reason, appear to 
take lead, and his chair was occupied by a young 
brother from Tliessalonica, who had come to 
visit the church in Philippi and bring news of 
the brethren further west. He was a fine-look- 
ing man, ready of speech, easy of manner, and 
with such a genuine love of the Christ that it 
transfigured all he said and did. As he told 
them what Paul had suffered through misrepre- 
sentation, envy and malice, Elizabeth felt that 
her troubles were not worthy to be mentioned in 
comparison, and meekly asked forgiveness for 
her depression when she knelt in prayer, after 
the humble and devotional method growing 
more in favor daily; for it was the haughty 
Pharisee who loved to be seen standing at his 
long prayers, while Jesus had knelt when ad- 
dressing His Father. Her soul was borne aloft 
on his fervent, soulful words. She felt once 
more the old perfect trust. Let her but dwell 
close enough to Jesus, and all that earth cofild 
give of weal or woe would make little differ- 
ence. 

The little group rose from their knees consoled 
and strengthened, and were in the midst of a 
low and tender hymn when the doorkeeper sud- 
denly sprang into their midst, wild-eyed and 
white as death, with the terrifying words: 

“ Fly! Fly! The soldiers are upon us.” 

In an instant some quick-witted brother had 
extinguished the lights as the hasty tramp of 
armed men and the clashing of their spears 
sounded in the room, but in that one instant 
some had escaped. As the guards poured into 
the place, the torches of the link-bearers light- 
ing the scene smokily, it was seen to be nearly 
deserted. A few were cowering behind benches, 
or fleeing madly into corners, but two or three 
knelt in the center, motionless and unresisting. 
Among these were Elizabeth and the stranger. 

The would-be fugitives were quickly secured, 
the worshipers dragged to their feet, and a scene 
of horror followed as the guards went from 
room to room, striking down those who resisted, 
and dragging others from their hiding-places. 
But Lydia was not among these. She, with a 
very few who followed her, escaped by a secret 
way of which she only had knowledge, and were 
overlooked by the soldiery, who supposed all 
had been secured. 

Elizabeth from the instant of warning had 
made no sound, offered no resistance. She 
simply dropped to her knees, recommending her- 
self to Christ, and calmly awaited what might 
happen. Presently she felt herself being 
dragged across the floor, and looked up to say: 


69 

“ I can walk, sir; do not exert yourself. I am 
not faint.” 

The rough praetorian, used to scenes of blood, 
but not expecting calm courage in a woman, 
looked at her in astonishment and relaxed his 
grasp. 

“ Can you?” he asked almost gently, and 
simply held her arm without gripping it. 

She walked beside him firmly, but scarcely in 
the full possession of her senses. It seemed like 
a dream, and she could not realize it all. But 
she felt no fear, she had no wish to cry out. 
Something sustained her so that what might 
have been a horror, making every nerve to 
quiver with fright, became but a weird, 
shadow-like proceeding in which nerves were 
dumb and spirit steeped in calm. She always 
afterward remembered the night as one might 
recall a trance-like dream, and she called the 
“ something ” which so stayed her soul the pres- 
ence of her Lord. 

She knew there had been a hurried march, in 
which chains clanked and arms gleamed in the 
moonlight, then an assembling of the trembling 
little company on a wharf, where they sat hud- 
dled together in the night chill until they could 
be consigned to some galley not yet at the land- 
ing. , 

This appeared towards dawning and they 
were hustled aboard, driven like sheep into a 
corner of the hold, and left there to groan out 
their fright and despair through the rest of that 
night of agony. But Elizabeth slept and 
dreamed of heaven. She thought Junius came 
to her there and begged her forgiveness, telling 
with penitent tears that he had God’s gracious 
pardon. So the hard resting-place, the guards, 
the dangers of the ocean, were forgotten while 
she wandered with her restored lover and hus- 
band in fair places. 

Once the guard who had chosen her as an es- 
pecial charge came and looked down upon the 
women prisoners— there were but two— to find 
one in the attitude of prayer, and the other 
sleeping like a. child in its mother’s arms. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A DESOLATE HEARTH. 

J UNIUS did not appear with the soldiers. 
Having led them to the house of Lydia, his 
errand was accomplished and he lingered 
only through curiosity, well hidden in the 
shadow of the street wall, to witness the result. 
He heard the noise of the q-uickly-endcd strug- 
gle above, and soon, with a chuckle of inner 
satisfaction, saw the soldiers reappear with at 
least a half-dozen prisoners huddled in their 
midst. Two of these were women, but in the 
uncertain light it was difficult to get a clear idea 


70 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


of their veiled figures. One, however, who 
walked erect and with firmness beside the half- 
fainting figure of the other, he felt sure was the 
proud Lydia, and a pang that was mingled 
satisfaction and regret flashed through him. In 
that moment of her downfall insistent memory 
recalled a thousand kindly deeds from her to 
his household and shamed him for this dastardly 
requital. 

A groan from one of the prisoners smote his 
ears as the company passed by his retreat, and 
surprised him into a shiver of dismay for the 
awful consequences of this night’s work. Junius 
was quite himself for the first time in months, 
and though he had kept sober for a distinct pur- 
pose, and that an evil one, the divine soul with- 
in him, freed for the moment, showed it still 
had power to make itself heard. Just now its 
noiseless reproaches made him miserably un- 
comfortable, and he was glad to slink away in 
the darkness and hasten to his home. As he 
passed swiftly through the deserted streets, 
singularly quiet after the brief commotion 
which had driven the guilty and the timid— a 
large share of Philippi’s population, in fact — to 
shelter, he felt glad he had Elizabeth to go to. 

“ She always calms and comforts me,” he 
thought. “ She is a woman of rare sweetness, I 
must own, and I have often made life a burden 
to her, doubtless. If she were not such a 
fanatic she would be almost perfect.” 

Yet truth compelled him to own that her 
faith in the teachings of Jesus had but deepened 
and strengthened all her better qualities, only— 
here was his grievance — it gave her some secret 
sustaining power to endure his own cruelties 
against her. A wife had no business with help 
outside her own husband! He told himself it 
made her less submissive. 

Yet inwardly he resolved to be kinder to her 
than he had been. He would take some of this 
ill-gotten money and buy her a new tunic— she 
needed it sadly, poor thing! — and the next time 
her large, soft eyes reproached him he would 
turn away and say nothing, rather than lift 
hand or voice against her. 

He soon reached his humble dwelling, and 
was not surprised to find it dark and securely 
locked. Elizabeth had evidently obeyed his in- 
structions to the letter. He had means of ad- 
mitting himself, and soon had lighted a lamp 
and proceeded to the little chamber, which to 
his astonishment he found empty. He looked 
around dazedly. Elizabeth gone? Oh, no! She 
had simply carried her sleeping-mat to the roof 
this mild night. He would just take a look to 
make sure. 

Shading the lamp with his hand, he passed up 
the outer stairway .and peered across the flat 
space before him. Yes, there she lay. He could 
see the dark figure’s outline against the white 
parapet. How relieved he felt! He thought he 
would satisfy himself, however, by a closer look 
at her. It would steady his nerves, which were 


somewhat shaken by the evening’s occurrences. 
So he crept softly over the flooring- of baked 
clay, and bent above — not Elizabeth, but Nadab! 
He woke the youth quickly, with a curse, and 
before the latter’s sleep-laden eyes were fairly 
open, shrieked into his ear, “ Where is your 
mother?” for an awful terror was beginning to 
grip his heart-strings. 

“Mother?” asked Nadab confusedly. 
“ Mother? Has she not returned from the meet- 
ing?” 

“ Meeting?” hissed the terrified man in return. 
“Did she go? Are you certain? How do you 
know ?” 

Nadab, fully aroused now,, looked sharply at 
his father to satisfy himself that this was not 
the frenzy of a drunken man. then answered 
calmly: 

“ Well, and if she did? She will soon be back 
now— or shall I go and fetch her? I presume, 
however, there will be women coming this way; 
there always are.” 

“ Peace!” shrieked the tortured man. “ Tell 
me if you are sure she went to that meeting.” 

“ No,” said Nadab slowly, gazing with aston- 
ishment at the excited man. “ No, I am not 
sure, because I did not see her go. But where 
else can she be? She never goes anywhere ex- 
cept to the meetings or to Lydia’s.” 

The last words but added intensity to the hus- 
band’s forebodings. To Lydia’s! To the house 
where he had led the soldiers, making merry in 
stifled whispers over the unconsciousness of 
their prey! To Lydia’s! He remembered the two 
female figures in the grasp of the rude soldiery- 
one half-fainting, one proudly erect — and was 
seized with such an agony as only a strong man 
can feel when for the first time he sees himself 
guilty of some horrible crime. 

Once, the other day, when he had asked the 
decurion from Rome the question, “ And why 
are Christians wanted at the capital just now?” 
the officer had answered with a laugh: “ There 
is a fresh load of wild beasts from the jungles, 
and we must find food for them.” 

The laughing words came back now to burn 
themselves into his consciousness. As in a flash 
of light he saw his Elizabeth, fairest and purest 
of women, standing for one uncertain minute in 
the broad arena of the amphitheatre, sur- 
rounded by fierce, starving beasts let loose from 
their dens upon her, and it seemed as if all the 
neglect and unkindness of a lifetime had become 
animate to torture him through her sufferings. 

“ Hurry, Nadab!” he called hoarsely. “ Run 
to Lydia’s— I cannot go. Rouse the slaves— find 
Eumene! Make sure — make sure whether she 
was there, or not. Do you hear, boy?” 

“ Was there? You mean is there, of course. 
If she had left, she would be here by now. And 
I would not be anxious, father. Lydia always 
sees that she has company home, even if she 
has to send one of the slaves with her.” 

“Go! go!— hurry!” was all the wretched man 


71 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


could say; and Nadab felt that for some reason 
this frenzy of his meant more than any drunken 
ravings he had ever known. 

While the youth was away Junius paced to 
and fro before the house, watching every 
shadow, hearing every flutter of a leaf, in the 
desperate hope that Elizabeth might appear. 
Oh! to see her come around that corner, her 
graceful figure stepping lightly, her modest face 
veiled in white! His Elizabeth! — fairer than the 
day he married her. His wife! who was to him 
the embodiment of all good, all hope, all faith in 
a better life to come! 

He called distractedly upon the gods he knew; 
he invoked the Lares and Penates of his deso- 
lated hearth; he cried to the stars shining coldly 
in the midnight darkness, and then— because He 
was the God Elizabeth loved and worshiped— he 
called upon the Christ to help, to forgive, to 
bring her back to the husband who, all too late, 
was learning her true worth. 

He grew a trifle calmer at length, and when 
Nadab reappeared with a well-wrapped female 
figure beside him, the greatness of his relief 
made him almost faint. 

“ Elizabeth!” he sobbed, holding out his arms. 
“ My wife!” 

It was Lydia who answered. Sweeping aside 
her veil, she turned her blazing eyes upon him. 

“ Vile, unhappy man!” she cried in an out- 
raged voice. “ You sought to betray us, and 
have bereft yourself! Elizabeth was near the 
outer door and one of the first, doubtless, to be 
seized. I escaped at the earliest word of alarm, 
calling upon her to follow, but she either did 
not hear, or had no time to obey. They took 
her with them.” 

Junius staggered back against his desolate 
house-wall, and a deep groan burst from his 
lips. Lydia was safe! Elizabeth was taken! 
And he, the traitor, the spy, was left to bear his 
success as best he could! They passed indoors. 
Poor Nadab, hardly yet comprehending, fol- 
lowed them, weeping silently and hoping that 
he might yet awaken to find it but a dream. 

A few words convinced Junius that his wife 
was indeed on her way to Rome to confront all 
sorts of unknown horrors, and the man in him 
woke from sloth and selfishness to deep repent- 
ance and earnest action. 

“ Lydia,” he said brokenly, “ your reproaches 
are just. I, and I alone, am to blame! I be- 
lieved my wife was safe, and in betraying others 
to ruin I have been overwhelmed myself.” 

Lydia, seeing his misery, was softened. “ You 
have not the power to ruin any of us, Junius. 
That rests with God, and He will not let your 
treachery cause us harm that is not in His per- 
fect plan for our future betterment. Your sin is 
just as great, for it was willful and malicious; 
but, thank God, Elizabeth is in the care of One 
more tender and trustworthy than yourself. 
But she is doubtless lost to you forever.” 

“No, no!” The cry was sharp with anguish. 


“ I shall follow her to Rome. I shall save her, 
if possible; and if not, I will at least die with 
her. Nadab, will you come with your father, or 
stay behind?” . 

“ I will go to my mother,” said the lad stoutly; 
and Lydia, bursting into tears, besought 
Heaven’s blessing on their enterprise. 

Their preparations took but a few hours. They 
had little money and must make the long jour- 
ney by land, mostly on foot. It was a terrible 
undertaking, but they did not stop to think of 
difficulties now— only of results. To reach wife 
and mother, to see her once more, to comfort 
and sustain her— with this strong purpose the 
tedious details of the journey of months were 
quite ignored. 

Lydia, convulused with weeping over the sad 
fate of her friend, drew Nadab to one side and 
pressed her purse into his hand. 

“ Take it,” she whispered, “ and make it 
shorten the way whenever possible. But hus- 
band it well, lest it be spent unworthily.” 

Nadab bowed his head, and thought, “ But 
how shall I ever keep father from spending it 
for strong wines during all that long journey?” 
For neither yet understood that Elizabeth’s 
prayer was answered and her burden rolled 
away. From that night on, Junius never 
touched the red liquor again. 

Meanwhile, in Thessalonica, Agistha sat 
awaiting the return of Herklas from his journey 
to Philippi and wondered that he did not come, 
for he was one of those honest and comfortable 
people who never promise what they cannot in 
all human probability perform, and he had said 
he would be back three days ago. 

Feeling restless and uneasy, she thought she 
would take her baby boy, Gaius, and go to the 
“ great house,” as they called the villa of iEnone, 
for a little visit with its mistress. 

She found the latter in her private room sur- 
rounded by her women, to whom she was giv- 
ing rapid orders, but she stopped to welcome 
Agistha, fondle the baby, and exclaim excitedly: 

“What do you think, child? Gaius is called 
to Rome for an indefinite time, and he is to take 
Ian and myself with him. We are to start in a 
day or two, and I am very busy giving orders for 
the conduct of my household while I am gone, 
and making preparations for the journey. But 
sit down, Agistha, and I will dismiss the slaves 
for a while.— Go! You have your orders for the 
present and can come for more later.— There! 
How tired I am! Now we can have a good rest 
and visit. But how forlorn you look, my dear! 
Have you been crying? What is troubling you?” 

Agistha broke down at this, and sobbed out: 

“ Herklas has not come back.” 

“ Is that all? Foolish child! What is there 
to worry over? He has simply been detained.” 

“ But he is three days behind time. And he 
promised, Lady iEnone. You know Herklas al- 
ways keeps his word.” 


72 


THE WBESTLEP OF PHILIPPI. 


“ Yos, lie is careful about it; but even the best 
of men fail sometimes. He has found old 
friends who are making merry over him, be 
assured. Indeed, I never expect Gaius till I 
see him — ah, here he is now!” 

The master entered, starting a little as he no- 
ticed Agistha; then, seeing the traces of tears, 
he said quickly: “ You have heard, then?” 

“ Heard— what?” she asked, looking up at him 
with anxious eyes. v 

Gaius turned to his wife perplexedly. “ I was 
about to ask you to go to her. There is news 
from Philippi— I just heard it from some traders 
on their way west. Does Agistha know?” 

“ No, no! What is it? She is worried because 
Herklas does not return.” 

Both the women had risen, and Agistha stood 
holding her baby closely, quite pallid with 
alarm. 

“ I hope the report is exaggerated,” he said 
kindly, “ but they say that while he was ad- 
dressing a secret meeting they were raided by 
soldiers, and a part of them carried off to 
Rome.” 

“ And Herklas— did he escape?” shrieked 
Agistha. 

Gaius sadly shook his head. “ They say he 
was certainly taken. But do not feel that all is 
lost, Agistha. I am going to start for Rome in a 
day or two, and I have some influence there. Be 
assured I shall use all I have to procure his re- 
lease. You must make up your mind to long 
waiting— but do not despair; I feel sure I shall 
save him.” 

Agistha dropped to her knees and held up her 
arms— the baby still in them— crying: 

“ Oh, master! dear, kind Gaius, take us with 
you! Take your little namesake and his mother. 
Oh, beg for us, dear mistress! Take me as your 
slave— anything— only let me go to my hus- 
band !” 

“There! there! Of course you shall go. Say 
that she can, Gaius. I will make her my first 
lady-in-waiting, and Chloe can look after little 
Gaius and Ian together. Say yes, husband!” 
pleaded ^Dnone, her kind heart wrung with grief 
for her favorite. 

“ Well, it shall be as you wish. I did not in- 
tend— however, it is no more than Herklas 
would do for me. Yes, yes, she and the babe 
shall go.” 

“ My blessed master!” 

“ Run, Agistha, and put everything in order 
at your home. Ah, Gaius, you never fail- me! 
There, weep no more, little one; we will surely 
save your husband.” 

“ Be ready by Thursday, for I cannot delay 
another hour. But what if this news should 
prove to be a mistake?” said Gaius. 

“ Then he will certainly be here by that time 
to speak for himself. If he is not, I will be ready 
for the first boat.” 

Agistha was as good as her word. When 
morning was still in her first blush, next mar- 


ket-day, the Lady JEnone’s train was awaiting 
embarkation upon a special galley finely fitted 
up, and flying the imperial colors. Above it a 
gay awning was spread, and cushions were 
placed beneath for the greater comfort of the 
ladies. 

But Agistha scarcely noticed these details. 
It would have been all the same had this been a 
dingy merchantman, from Alexandria, the floors 
swimming in bilge-water, and the sails torn and 
soiled with hard usage. Pale and still, she 
crossed the gang-plank with her baby, but one 
idea in her mind— she was going to her husband. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

IN PROUD ROME. 

I T was a long sail from Neapolis to Rome, 
and one embarking late in the season was 
never sure of not being forced to winter 
somewhere on the way. But Cleotas and 
Salome with their little family had sailed 
in early springtime and been favored with fair 
winds throughout the voyage, thus they made 
a quick and pleasant passage. Hector and his 
wife Celeste, with their little Aulus and Salome, 
were waiting impatiently to greet the travelers, 
who landed at one of the lower wharves on the 
Tiber, and were thence transported by a barge 
to the city landing. 

Upon this barge, gay with streamers and 
music, were the Roman family, and Hector had 
spared no expense or trouble to make this wel- 
come to his long-lost sister and her family a 
truly royal one. Slaves were waiting to serve 
refreshments, consisting of fruits, spiced dishes, 
and confections, under a wide awning beneath 
which were couches and ottomans for all, and 
two flute-players, with a harpist and lyrist, were 
concealed in the stern ready to play their ten- 
derest airs of love, longing, and satisfied affec- 
tion, during the repast. 

It was a glad hour. The meeting between 
Hector and Salome was full of deep emotion for 
both. Looking upon her noble, matronly •coun- 
tenance, he felt that she had grown older in 
wisdom and self-control, as well as in years, and 
thought that even as a maiden she had never 
been more attractive. He liked her gentle firm- 
ness with her children, and was pleased at the 
deference and respect her manly husband paid 
her. It was not thus all matrons were treated 
in Rome, and Hector began to wonder if it had 
been his way always with his gentle Celeste. 
He loved his wife, to be sure, but there was a 
difference. He was first in the household, she 
second— which surely was right and proper— but 
somehow with Cleotas and Salome there seemed 
no first or second; they were one. 

Hector had found a dwelling for them in the 


THE WEE STL EE OF PHILIPPI. 


73 


north-eastern suburb, near the gardens of 
Sallust; the encampment of the Praetorian 
guards, whence his duties took him daily, being 
not far beyond. Before he would let them 
occupy it, however, he insisted they should all 
visit him in his own home, that the families 
might make acquaintance at last. 

The two ladies soon became warmly attached, 
and Hector daily grew more appreciative of the 
sturdy virtues which kept his brother-in-law so 
evenly balanced, and so unafraid. As he went 
from station to station, enforcing that discipline 
which made the armies of Rome invincible, 
Hector felt that there was a better kind of dis- 
cipline, not enforced, but voluntary, and full of 
joy inexpressible — the discipline of a soul 
brought into harmony with the Higher Will; and 
as he studied this Christian brother, brave as 
he had never been, he first marveled, then loved, 
then longed to imitate. But alas! Self-interest 
and iron law, under the most lawless of sover- 
eigns, seemed to bind him in chains too strong 
for breaking. Like Festus, he was “ almost 
persuaded”; but also like him, the glitter of 
worldly rank outshone the Heavenly beams. 

In a few weeks the new-comers were quite at 
home in the Imperial City, and Salome never 
tired of going about in her litter to admire the 
high and massive buildings with tlieir wilder- 
ness of columns, the narrow paved streets teem- 
ing with their motley crowds, the shops beneath 
the great houses divided into living apartments 
above, which were gay with every salable 
luxury, the temples beautiful as artists could 
fashion— though to her thought degraded to base 
uses— and the blooming gardens of the pa- 
tricians, both public and private. 

Everywhere she observed statues dedicated 
to different deities, for if pagan worship was 
strong in Philippi, it was all-in-all here. These 
statues, placed in the intersections of the streets, 
outlining forums, baths, theatres, and halls of 
justice, decorating every shop and booth, stand- 
ing guard over every private doorway, were of 
all substances, from the precious metals and 
the finest Italian marbles down to hideous little 
carved effigies, rudely fashioned from a block 
of wood. Every shop was dedicated to some 
deity, every trade made oblations to some patron 
of the skies; even the children’s toys were con- 
secrated to Bacchus, the god of fun and revelry. 
Nothing, however trivial, took place without 
consultation with the Augurs, who calculated 
their prophecies from the flight of birds, or the 
direction of the lightnings in a storm; or appeal- 
ing to the Horespices, who gravely inspected the 
entrails of fowl and beast for their decisions, 
and gave them with a solemn voice, although, 
as Cato has told us, “ they could not help laugh- 
ing when they met in the streets ” over the 
credulity of the masses who heaped their coffers 
with silver. 

Salome noted, too, in her thoughtful manner, 
the intense contrasts in life here displayed. On 


one hand was a poverty that bereft life of all 
freedom, beauty, almost of hope; on the other, 
a luxury that seemed steeped in wildest extrava- 
gance. At the least movement the higher pa- 
trician glittered with splendor. His clothing 
was a mass of gems. His lectica, or chariot, 
shone with gold and silver-work, and was up- 
holstered in the richest stuffs from Damascus. 
Lictors ran before him with their fasces (a bun- 
dle of rods with an axe in the center), clearing a 
passage through the crowded streets, which 
were only the width of a village lane; and, not 
content with this, the most showy fashionables 
trailed about with a retinue of slaves, until the 
nuisance was getting almost unbearable, for 
the confined roadways were often blocked by 
this foolish display. 

Salome, modest Greek matron that she was, 
often felt shocked at the boldness of the Roman 
ladies, who reclined in their litters unveiled, 
and seeming to invite the public gaze. The sight 
always made her draw her own veil closer and 
shrink behind her curtains, all ablush with 
shame over such brazen immodesty! 

The short winter was blossoming into spring 
when, one day, Cleotas came in hastily and 
sought his wife in her distaff-room. His face 
was quite pale with some unusual emotion, and 
he looked at her keenly an instant, where she 
sat calmly at her embroidery, before he said in 
a controlled voice: 

“ Salome, I have strange news for you.” 

She half rose, startled at his manner. “ What 
is it, Cleotas? Has anything happened to Hec- 
tor— to his family?” 

“ No, it is about Junius. Junius is in Rome.” 

“ In Rome — here? And without Elizabeth? 
Surely lie has not forsaken her!” 

“ No, she— sit down, dear. It is a long story— 
she is somewhere here, or on the way.” 

“ Here — or at sea? How strange you are, my 
husband! Tell me all about it.” 

44 1 will, Salome, but it is a sad story. Eliza- 
beth was arrested with some other Christians, 
and the soldiers started with them for Rome — 
at least they are known to have sailed from 
Neapolis not three months after we left there, 
but—” 

44 And have not reached here yet? Oh, they 
are lost at sea!” 

44 No, Junius and Nadab think they are not, 
or we would have had news of it in some way. 
But they may have been wintering somewhere, 
driven by storms to seek shelter in a foreign 
port.” 

44 So Nadab is here also? Poor boy! He must 
be heart-broken. But Junius— has Junius done 
all this for her?” 

44 Yes, and evidently is a changed man, 
Salome. He refuses to touch wine, though 
greatly worn with his long journey, is thought- 
ful and kind for Nadab, and—” 

44 But where are they? Why did you not bring 


74 


THE WllESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


tliom here at once, Cleotas?” springing to her 
feet with hospitable solicitude. “ Surely you 
would not let them lodge elsewhere?” 

“ No; they are here, my dear. I left them to 
make their ablutions and replace their soiled 
garments before seeing you — for there is some- 
thing more, my wife. You say Nadab must be 
broken-hearted. True, he is very sorrowful, but 
youth and hope brace him to bear this blow. It 
is Junius who is broken in spirit.” 

“Junius? That surly, neglectful, cruel man! 
It does not seem possible.” 

“ Yes, it is, because remorse is what tears the 
heart-strings beyond repair, my Salome, and 
Junius is remorseful to self-abasement because 
—he is to blame.” 

“ To blame? For Elizabeth’s arrest? Oh, the 
wretch! the unnatural monster! the — ” 

“ Peace, peace, child! Not so fast! Let me tell 
you all;” and amid Salome’s sobs and broken 
exclamations, Cleotas made her understand 
just how the sad event had happened. 

At first she felt as if she could never forgive 
Junius, never even see him, but Cleotas re- 
minded her gravely: 

“ Salome, we pray to be forgiven as we for- 
give. If God should not even overlook our mis- 
takes, in what evil case we would be!” 

Weeping and torn with conflicting emotions, 
she threw herself into his arms. 

“ Oh, my husband! You are so kind, so good, 
so strong! Show me the right, that I may pur- 
sue it.” 

“ There is only one way, and that is the 
Christ’s, my child. We must help and comfort 
Junius and Nadab, and with them watch and 
wait for Elizabeth, to give her such succor as 
will be possible. There is, of course, the faint 
chance that she may be even now languishing 
in some dungeon here in Rome, though so far 
diligent inquiry has failed to locate her. But 
when you see Junius and comprehend the en- 
tire change in him, you will feel differently.” 

Cleotas had spoken truly. One glance into the 
haggard face and deeply sorrowful eyes of the 
bereft husband filled Salome’s warm heart with 
sudden pity. Its expression was so pathet ically 
humble, despairing, patient, that it would have 
touched a stone, and Salome was far enough 
from such hardness. She looked in vain for any 
of his old self-sufficiency. It had dropped from 
him like a worn-out garment, and every word, 
every act, betokened that this blow had struck 
at the very roots of his being. 

He and the Thracian girl had never liked each 
other, but now the desolate man turned to her 
as the one who had been nearest and dearest 
to his wife, while Salome, stirred to deepest 
sympathy, soon grew tender to him in their 
common sorrow, and felt a daughterly affection 
developing for this Roman whom she had once 
despised. 

For a few days Nadab’s young grief was al- 
most forgotten in the novelty and bewilderment 


of his surroundings. He roamed the streets all 
day, looking, looking, till his eyes ached, and 
felt each night that he had only just begun to 
realize the extent, grandeur, and singularities 
of this capital city of the whole world. 

But Junius, if he noticed, did not heed. Each 
morning he took his long walk across the city to 
the wharves, and there spent his day between 
the Emporium, or grain pier, and the Mar- 
morata, a special dock for landing stone and 
marble, not knowing just where or when he 
might see some storm-tossed barque come sail- 
ing in, bringing the most precious freight this 
world could give him — his Elizabeth. 

Sometimes, seated upon a post, he looked out 
upon the waters of the Tiber, here broadened 
into a harbor-like roadway from the ocean, and 
watched with his longing eyes the strange craft 
from every port along the Mediterranean’s 
shores. He saw the government galleys 
equipped for warfare, with from three to 
thirteen banks of rowers bending to their severe 
task; he observed the fishermen’s junks, clumsy 
of prow and broad of sail, starting out for their 
season’s work; he turned wearily from the sight 
of patrician pleasure-barges, gay with streamers 
and silken awnings, with gilded figure-heads of 
Neptune, or Venus, at the prow, and he watched 
long with a wistful sadness the low, black, 
square-hulled convict ships, prowling slowly 
about amid stream. 

But the ship he sought— the one which would 
bring news of the wife he had betrayed— did 
not come, and sometimes, looking into the soft 
blue of the dancing waves, he wondered if it 
Avould not be better if both were sleeping far be- 
neath them together? For oh! what might not 
await her in Rome? Again he would be seized 
with the conviction that she was already there, 
lodged in some forgotten dungeon, and he would 
wander distraught from forum to castle, asking 
wild questions, and growing momentarily more 
unmanageable. At these times it needed all the 
persuasions and assurances of both Cleotas and 
Hector (the latter having been enlisted in his 
cause) to quiet him. But these days were few. 
Generally he was patient to dumbness, and only 
his gaunt, hungry eyes betokened the agony 
gnawing at his heart. 

One morning as he entered the shipping office 
where he made his daily inquiries, he saw a 
man he had often noticed there before, a pa- 
trician of high rank, undoubtedly, whose frank 
face and agreeable manner attracted him. This 
day they advanced at the same moment, and he 
courteously made way for Junius, giving 'him a 
sympathizing glance as he did so. But Junius 
had scarcely finished his queries when the man 
stepped forth quickly, to say: 

“Just what I was about to ask! Are you in- 
terested in these people, too, my friend?” 

Junius bowed his head. “ My wife is on 
board, sire,” he answered, with the respect be- 
fitting the other’s rank. 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


75 


“ Indeed?” The patrician seemed interested. 
“ I see you wear the dress of Macedonia, my na- 
tive country; may I ask what city you are 
from ?” 

“ From Philippi, sire.” 

“Ah! And 1 am of Thessalonica. The ship 
about which we are anxious had several Chris- 
tians on board, I understand.” 

His look was inquiring, and Junius answered 
it. “ It had. My wife is one of that sect, sire. 
They arrested her at a meeting, and I have come 
by land to see what can be done for her 
relief.” 

The other listened intently. “ At a meeting? 
It must have been the same. See here, my good 
man, the wind is sharp this morning. Come 
with me to my home for a little. I too have on 
board this missing galley a friend who was also 
arrested at a meeting in Philippi, and I would 
gladly learn something more definite of that 
event if possible. My chariot is waiting out- 
side. I pray you come.” 

Junius consented, but with reluctance. It was 
torture for him to recall that night even in 
thought, and how could he acknowledge to an- 
other his part in the sad result? But his repent- 
ance was sincere, and he felt it a well-merited 
punishment that he must always be pointed out 
as the betrayer of those whom he now gladly 
claimed as brothers and sisters in Christ. Then, 
too, he might glean some new facts or gain some 
new friends helpful to Elizabeth, and for her 
sake he could not refuse this man’s courtesy. 
So he followed him into his finely- wrought 
chariot, with scarce a thought of its magnifi- 
cence, though once Junius would have swelled 
with pride over such an honor, and was borne 
swiftly to the palatial home of Gaius-*— for this 
was he— upon Palatine Hill. 

Here he followed the latter through vestibule 
and ostium into the atrium, or parlor, where 
even the absorption of Junius was not so great 
as to quite blind him to its beauty. A noble 
vista opened before him, of which this lofty 
apartment was but the beginning. From the 
paneled walls, painted in rare designs, beautiful 
statuary was set out on pedestals of onyx and 
malachite in rich relief, while the floor, inlaid 
with marble in charming patterns, was a work 
of art in itself. Directly in the center was the 
impluvium, or square of water, from the center 
of which rose a feathery spray, and above this 
cooling basin, protected by a brass railing, the 
roof curved inwards from all sides to an open- 
ing corresponding in shape and size, through 
which the light poured in, transforming the 
vapors into broken rainbows, wavering and 
graceful as ribbons blown in the breeze. A 
striped awning, now rolled to one side, could if 
necessary be drawn across this skylight, shut- 
ting out the too ardent sun of noonday. 

A few rich chairs and tables were scattered 
about, and a divan filled one corner, with an 
elegant canopy above, but in the place where the 


altar was wont to stand in most Roman houses 
—namely, just beyond the impluvium— was a 
plain little table holding a branching candle- 
stick, a roll of vellum choicely covered and pro- 
tected, and a plain cross of purest white marble 
about three inches in height, before which stood 
a vase of roses. 

Gaius seated his guest upon an ottoman, drew 
another close beside him, and the two were soon 
in earnest converse. Junius told the whole story 
plainly and without reserve, even to his own 
baseness and low estate. Gaius listened with- 
out comment, but as he glanced now and then 
into that countenance upon which its story was 
graven in lines cut by regret and despair, he 
could not feel other than intense pity for this 
misguided, suffering man. 

“ I aimed,” said Junius slowly, “ to strike at 
two people who had incurred my displeasure, 
and God drove the blow home to my own 
heart.” 

“Then both those people escaped?” asked 
Gaius. 

“ They did.” 

“ Strange how little we control events after 
all!” mused the politarcli. “ Even Christ pleased 
not Himself, yet no act of His ever went astray.” 
Then turning brusquely to Junius he asked, 
“ What think you of your wife’s faith? Was 
Jesus of Nazareth the Christ?” 

Junius bent his head. “ I believe He was and 
is,” was tne earnest answer; and Gaius felt this 
was a conviction of slow growth, perhaps, but 
laid in foundations deep and strong. 

As they conversed further the host told how, 
upon his own journey to Rome, undertaken so 
near the same time, the ship had been obliged to 
keep to a southerly course, in order to avoid a 
long and terrible storm which raged for days 
along the Adriatic shores and doubtless occa- 
sioned much delay to shipping in that region. 
He had long ago decided that the convict ship 
must have gone into winter quarters, if not lost 
at sea, and was now daily expecting word of it, 
since navigation was opened once more. He 
said, moreover, that he had positively assured 
himself these special prisoners were not in 
Rome, as he had instituted the strictest search 
for them through every prison and castle. 

When Junius finally departed, it was to feel 
greatly encouraged and strengthened, and the 
parting was most friendly, each promising to 
acquaint the other with any news he might re- 
ceive. 

February had passed, March was coming in 
shod with sandals of green, and it was early 
morning. The air was soft with odors and crisp 
with recent rains, and the streets were lively 
with slaves hurrying to the houses of their mas- 
ters for their daily rations of food. Not till later 
would the heavy teams for traffic be allowed, 
and now there was plenty of bustle without 
noise, for the bare feet trod lightly, and the 


76 


THE WRESTLER OF PIIILIPPl. 


servants knew better than to disturb their indo- 
lent sleeping patrons by too loud talk and laugh- 
ter. One of them, however, ventured to ap- 
proach the house of Cleotas, arouse the porter, 
and inquire for Junjus. He was summoned, and 
the fair-liaired youth of a foreign cast of coun- 
tenance (whom we would have recognized as 
Harold) stepped forward with his message. 

“ Sir, my master, Gaius, the politarch, has 
news of a certain ship lately landed in Puteoli. 
There are said to be Christians on board, notably 
one of celebrity well known both at Philippi and 
Tlie'ssalonica— the Apostle Paul, who is being 
brought to Rome for trial. My master intends 
to go by land to meet these people, and would 
be pleased to have you and your friends accom- 
pany the party, of which there are not a few, he 
believes.” 

Junius thanked the messenger and promised 
to join the party immediately. Then dismissing 
him, he hastened to send the word to the private 
rooms of Cleotas and Nadab. It. quickly brought 
the household, excited, inquisitive, and eager to 
join the expedition. Cleotas and Nadab pre- 
pared to accompany Junius, and Salome was 
almost rebellious at being left behind, for once 
bewailing her sex, that it should prevent her. 

But she did not cease to aid her women in 
making ready the early meal and helping the 
men in their preparations, though tears kept 
rising to her eyes as she thought that her dear 
Elizabeth might be of the convict group, and if 
so would be longing for one loving face of 
womankind to greet her after this long and 
wearisome journey. She mentally resolved that 
she would at least be carried in her litter as far 
as the Porta Latina, an arched gate of the inner 
wall, or possibly even to the place of tombs be- 
yond, and after the departure of the others, 
went about her own preparations, comforted by 
this thought. 

She was sitting at her embroidery, awaiting 
the time to go, when Nadab came rushing in 
again in great excitement. 

“ Come, hurry!” he cried with boyish rough- 
ness. “ There are ladies going, too— some from 
the politarcli’s household, and others— and I 
have come back for you. We are to join them 
in the suburbs. I will run and order your litter 
while you make ready, and then will conduct 
you the shortest way to the arch under the 
aqueduct— what do you call it?” 

“The Porta Capena? So far as that? Oh. 
Nadab, how good j’ou are! I will not keep you 
waiting a minute.” 

Salome hurried to call her maids, and was at 
once in the center of a bustle of preparation, 
while Nadab ran out to summon her litter-bear- 
ers and promise them liberal recompense for 
their swiftest work. Then he mounted his mule 
and impatiently awaited her outside, though in 
fact it was not five minutes later when Salome 
entered her litter, and the little group started 
briskly down the hilly street. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE MEETING AT THE THREE TAVERNS 

I T was always a slow task making one’s way 
through the crowded Suburra, but having 
left behind that somewhat unsavory locality, 
with its many shops and questionable resorts, 
they rapidly skirted the Palatine, its roomy pal- 
aces and gardens in sharp contrast to the 
squalor behind them, and struck off at a goodly 
pace past the villas lining the way. Presently 
they reached the Porta Capena, its arch always 
dripping from the aqueduct above it, and clat- 
tered on quite into the suburbs, where fine 
mausoleums lined the white-paved road for 
miles. 

Nadab— who, with a boy’s curiosity, had al- 
ready made himself well acquainted with the 
sights of the city— rode close to the litter to point 
out Scipio’s tomb back some distance from the 
highway, its marble columns gleam ir> i% - wliitely 
through the dense green of the cypresses, and 
Salome repeated Cicero’s comprehensive eulogy 
of the great general and philosopher: “ He was 
never less alone than when alone.” 

It was a spring morning, and the whole atmos- 
phere was rich with those first faint earthy 
scents which each year thrill us anew with their 
promise of future verdure and beauty. While 
Salome was delightedly sniffing the perfume of 
the newly upturned farm-lands on either hand, 
she heard Nadab give an exclamation, and saw 
him make a dash forward. Leaning out be- 
tween her curtains, she quickly discovered the 
cause. The party they were to accompany stood 
awaiting them, gathered in a knot beneath a 
clump of mulberry trees, and a horseman 
spurred forwards instantly at sight of Nadab, to 
cry out approvingly: “ In excellent time, my 
boy! We have but just arrived.” 

Then the speaker came close to the litter to 
whisper merrily, as he bent to the beloved face 
between the curtains: 

“ Ah, my Salome, you always conquer in the 
end! I was happy to be able to send for you. 
Here they all are, the Lady yEnone and her 
friends, and waiting to greet you.” 

He gave a quick command, and the litter- 
bearers brought their burden abreast of the 
more beautiful lectica in blue and steel, from 
which a bright, intelligent face, its veil pushed 
aside for the moment, looked forth as the owner 
said: 

“ And this, then, is the wife of Cleotas? I am 
glad to know her, and have her company this 
fair morning. Let me present my friend, 
Agistha.” 

A pale, sad, young countenance, with darkly 
shadowed eyes, peered out, and Agistha and 
Salome greeted each other in friendly fashion. 
Others of both sexes were in the party, but 
Gaius with a laughing word took command, 
urging haste, and the little procession, headed 


77 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


by two lietors, proceeded on its way, the horse- 
men in front, then the litters— the Lady JEnone’s 
taking precedence— and lastly Nadab on his 
mule, whose movements were erratic, taking 
him sometimes far in advance in an emulative 
spurt, and again leaving him crawling dreamily 
in the rear. 

In this way they traversed a distance of seven- 
teen miles to a place of resort knotvn as the 
Three Taverns, where, in consideration of the 
tired litter-bearers, the party was to rest, en- 
joy the noon meal, and await the coming of 
Paul and such other Christians as might be with 
him. 

None of the company had reason to expect to 
meet any nearer friend than he, yet,, in spite of 
themselves, in the hearts of both Agistlia and 
Junius was a trembling hope that the dear 
partner each longed for might be found with 
Paul. 

As the women gathered in the room set apart 
for them in the inn, they soon made acquaint- 
ance and talked eagerly, for they had been 
brought together by a common interest. All 
reverenced the great Paul and longed to prove 
their friendship, even though he came to them 
in chains, and Salome was full of excitement at 
thought of seeing once more the man who had 
first thoroughly convinced her of the truth as it 
is in Jesus. But as she watched Agistha’s 
tremulous absorption and lack of appetite, she 
pushed aside her own hot wlieaten cakes and 
honey to ask eagerly: 

“ Is it possible you really expect to see your 
husband in this company? You see I know of 
your loss from Junius, who has told me of you. 
If so, then doubtless Elizabeth will be with 
them, too; but I dare not hope it.” 

“ I am not sure that I ‘ hope ’ it,” replied 
Agistlia, turning from the latticed window 
where she had gone to look restlessly down upon 
the street, “ but I do feel it. Ever since I awoke 
to hear this news, I have felt that I should see 
him— but oh! what then? What then?” 

She turned away, choking with, emotion, and 
Salome’s pitying eyes met iEnone’s. 

“ True enough,” she murmured, “ but I had 
not thought of that. I have been all absorbed in 
the idea of seeing these good people, of hearing, 
perhaps, some news of my friends, and I forgot 
they come as captives, to be consigned to the 
dungeons beneath the forum before we can do 
more than exchange a word with them.” 

Yet, in spite of future forebodings, present 
hope could not but buoy them up. Only to see 
those from whom they had been so long sep- 
arated, if this was to be, only to be sure they 
were alive, was a great boon, and insensibly 
their spirits rose as each felt all the others in 
perfect accord with herself. Gaius presently 
came in to say that some of the men had de- 
cided to ride on, hoping to meet Paul’s party 
soon, and would leave the lietors behind to at- 
tend upon the ladies. These now gathered close 


behind the lattices to watch them ride away, 
then settled themselves for a longer, or shorter, 
waiting. 

The afternoon dragged slowly on, and nothing 
happened. It was nearing the ninth hour. Two 
or three, including ASnone, had fallen asleep, 
and Salome was dozing, when Agistlia, who had 
been sitting in severe quiet within the em- 
brasure of the window overhanging the court 
below, made a quick movement and bent for- 
ward attentively, her hand behind her ear. In 
the distance, far and faint, she thought she 
could discern voices and the tread of many feet, 
mingled with a. clicking noise that suggested the 
impact of steel on steel. From where she sat 
only a portion of the paved court was visible, 
but that portion included the wide-arclied open- 
ing connecting it with the street. It was thence 
she now turned her eyes in a piercing gaze. The 
sounds she had heard grew more distinct, and 
she knew them, now, for the tread of feet 
shackled by fetters. 

Yes! Here through' the arch comes a mounted 
guard— another — their shirts of mail gleaming 
like fish-scales in the sun; two more, then— oh! 
how her heart beat as her glance ran like light- 
ning over the first four of the prisoners, all 
chained together! Not one was known to her. 
But here come two more between soldiers, with 
wrist-fetters only, and these she recognizes as 
Paul and his companion, Aristarchus of Tlies- 
salonica, a well-known brother there. Are there 
no more? Ah! what is this? Two women on a 
pillion. She looked quickly around and called, 
“ Salome, Madame, come at once!” then turned 
back to her eager watch, while Salome, thus 
suddenly aroused from her light doze, sprang up 
and came forward with a shower of questions. 

But Agistlia did not answer. Instead, she 
raised a hand, and gave a cry that awoke all 
the sleepers, “ My husband! My husband!” for 
behind the women, again in fours, are other 
men, and among them— though bearded, hag- 
gard, and browned like an Arab — Herklas ! 

Her cry was caught up by Salome, who had 
recognized Elizabeth in one of the women, and 
the two simultaneously made a dash for the 
corridor outside, followed closely by iEnone and 
the other women. So far, Salome had no idea 
of the name of Agistha’s husband. It had not 
been mentioned before her. When Gaius or 
iEnone had spoken of him they gave him his 
title in the church; the few times Agistlia had 
referred to him she named him as her husband; 
and in the brown-bearded man just marched 
into the court of the inn, there was but little 
trace, to a casual glance, of the boy who had 
left home nine years before. Then, too, her 
whole thought now centered in Elizabeth, ex- 
cept such as all gave to the Apostle, whose fate 
they watched with deep interest. 

When the women reached the court they found 
it filled with an excited company— not only 
their own group, but quite a party who had gone 


78 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


further on, even to Apii-Foruni, the first mule- 
station on the twenty-mile canal built by 
Augustus to drain the Pontine Marshes, and an 
important point for travelers approaching from 
the coast. So it was a large cavalcade of horses, 
donkeys, and foot-passengers who now thronged 
the paved square to its utmost capacity. 

But our hurrying women had only a dim im- 
pression of the scene as they poured out of the 
nouse door. Agistha, who had outrun the rest, 
slipped in and out amid the throng, supple as a 
serpent, and ^Enone followed at her heels, 
scarcely less excited. But Salome turned from 
them and ran close by the wall'with her eyes 
fixed upon a pillion, half concealed between two 
mounted men who hovered close about it, and 
whom she saw to be Junius and Nadab. 

“Elizabeth!” she called, “Elizabeth!” 

At the cry Herklas, in the center of the mass, 
turned surprisedly— turned only to see a slen- 
der figure, which did not at all belong to the 
strangely familiar voice, reaching for him de- 
spite the guard’s angry protest— and forgot the 
odd impression in the rapture of beholding his 
wife at his very side, and behind her his tried 
friend and patron. 

Salome was answered by Elizabeth’s sweet 
voice, placid as ever: 

“ Here w T e are, all safe, dear sister. My hus- 
band, my son, and you. How gracious is the 
Lord! Ah, Salome, this pays for all— this pays 
for all!” 

She clasped her friend close, then turned again 
to Junius, whose eyes scarcely left her face. 
The joy, the surprise, of finding her own where 
she had looked only for new strangeness and 
fresh terrors, made Elizabeth radiant. One 
glance, one word, his very presence, had been 
enough to convince her of her husband’s repent- 
ance, and it seemed to her for the time being 
that she was indeed repaid for months of peril 
and hardship by sea and land, in this • unex- 
pected joy vouchsafed to her. 

But Elizabeth, even in this supreme moment, 
could not be selfish. She said eagerly: 

“ Dear Salome, let me bespeak your kindest 
attention for my friend here with me. Her 
name is Eunice, and you have met her at home. 
We were taken together, and I can never tell all 
she has been to me on this terrible journey!” 

Salome hastened to greet the delicate young 
creature who had outlived so many perils, but 
had time for only a word, as the soldiers ordered 
back the crowd, and formed quickly about the 
prisoners, commanding that they seat them- 
selves on the pavement, as food would be given 
them before they resumed the march. One of 
the guards thrust Junius aside and bade the 
women dismount, but Gaius now appeared, 
ready to greet the friends of his new friends. 

He saw the look upon the husband’s face at 
being thus treated, and said cheerily: 

“ Ah, friend, I see you have been made happy 
as well as Agistha. And this is the dear wife 


you have looked for so long? Peace be with you, 
lady. And now, courage, all! I know the cen- 
turion in command, who, by the way, has a 
name similar to your own — Julius — and he has a 
kind heart. As soon as I can get speech with 
him I shall ask that we be allowed to serve all 
these Christian friends,' also the guards, who 
must not be overlooked,” — he bowed courteously 
to the helmet beside him, and received a ready 
military salute in return, — “ with a good and 
abundant meal; then with bodies and spirits 
both refreshed, we can accompany them on the 
last stage of their march.” 

The guard’s visage expressed satisfaction, and 
he considerately stepped back, leaving the re- 
united to themselves. Thus Gaius, winning all 
with courteous words and well-bestowed gifts, 
w r as allowed to carry out his hospitable plan, 
and soon as excellent a supper as the inn could 
furnish was smoking on a hastily-improvised 
table in the court. 

Once more these dear ones met in perfect ac- 
cord, putting aside, for the time, all fears and 
forebodings, to enjoy to the full a meeting 
fraught with hope and comfort for each. Paul 
conversed with those who had come so far to 
greet him, hearing their good report of the 
churches he had founded— which news was 
more than meat and drink to him — and giving 
in return such counsel and spiritual advice as 
would linger in their memories for life. 

For Elizabeth it was an hour set out in whitest 
light. With hands clasped in those of husband 
and son she turned her shining eyes upward in 
thanksgiving for the mercies of God. When 
Junius brokenly tried to explain the terrible 
mistake which had brought her here, she 
checked him. 

“ It was the will of the Christ, my husband. 
He lias honored me by allowing me also to 
come to testify in Rome, even as Paul will do. 
And in spite of shipwreck and the many perils 
we have gone through, these months have been 
blessed to us all, for Paul lias directed us, and 
Christ lias been with us, to save and comfort. 
Do not reproach yourself, or pity me — and never. 
Junius, speak of forgiveness between us two! 
I have always pleaded for you as you never 
could for yourself; it is enough that God has 
answered me, and you are His — and mine.” 

The brief rest over, the little company took up 
its line of march again, and even the chains 
seemed to have grown lighter because of this 
companionship and cheer. The guard in charge 
of the women, through some mysterious influ- 
ence, even allowed Elizabeth to ride in Salome’s 
litter, saying it would lighten the mule’s load, 
and fell a pace or tw T o behind, allowing Junius 
and Nadab to ride on either hand. Evidently 
Gaius and Cleotas had busied themselves to 
some purpose! Thus they marched, sometimes 
talking low and intimately, again listening to 
the wise discourse of Paul, anon breaking into 
singing, sweet and holy. 


79 


the wrestler OF PHILIPPI. 


But a change was made in the cavalcade as 
they neared the city. Elizabeth was requested 
to resume her seat on the pillion, the prisoners 
were bunched together, and the guard formed a 
hollow square about them. In this orderly man- 
ner they were conducted to the forum, and there 
formally delivered over to Burrhus, who con- 
signed them to the captain of the guard to be 
led to the dungeons. 

With wet eyes the party from Rome called out 
their farewells, watched them till they disap- 
peared, then slowly turned away to their homes, 
unable to do more for those they loved. Yet that 
night Junius slept like a child, and Agistha, 
clasping her baby to her heart, thanked God for 
this sweet day, whatever the future might have 
in store. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A TEST OP LOYALTY. 

A WEEK or so before the coming of the 
prisoners to Rome, Hector and Aulus 
Clotius were closeted with a man who 
gave evidences of a long journey, and whose air 
of furtive anxiety bespoke him either a fugitive 
from justice, or a messenger bearing secret tid- 
ings which would imperil his life, if discovered. 
He, in fact, announced himself as an ambassa- 
dor from Marcus Salvius Otho, the former hus- 
band of Poppoea, now in Lusitania, and owned 
to bearing dispatches of a treasonable char- 
acter. He claimed it could scarcely be won- 
dered at that this outraged and banished hus- 
band should hate his usurper and long to be 
avenged, saying further that his spies at court 
had kept him constantly informed of events 
there. When he thus learned of the covert re- 
buffs aimed at Aulus Clotius, he shrewdly 
singled him out as one who would be ready to 
further the interests of any opponent to the 
throne. In a word, Otho was longing to sup- 
plant Nero, and felt that Aulus would prove a 
powerful ally, could he win his allegiance. His 
influence with the army was great, and his 
bravery proverbial. 

This was well known to the messenger him- 
self, who had long been acquainted with Aulus 
in the army, and could judge of his abilities, he 
being also a military officer, though in another 
branch of the service. Hector, as one more 
directly in touch with the Praetorian Guards, 
nad been also admitted to the interview, and 
sat in grave silence as the messenger unfolded 
his plan. 

This was cunningly devised and complete in 
detail, but as Aulus examined the papyri, and 
listened to the concise explanations, he shook 
his head dubiously. 

“ Rome is not yet ripe for the change,” he pro- 


tested, looking toward Hector for confirmation. 
“ We all know what Nero is, but the populace 
does not. He gives it plenty of festivals, games, 
and spectacles— why, he has just had fifty lions, 
thirty leopards, and twenty-seven magnificent 
tigers added to the dens in the amphitheatre! 
Then coin is plenty here, if the provincials do 
complain, and favors are given largely. No, 
Plutus, it will not do! We must wait.” 

The messenger turned his dark,' disappointed 
face upon Hector. “ And do you, too, counsel 
delay, my brave centurion?” 

Hector was sitting with his chin upon his 
hand and his eyes bent on the floor. “ I am 
thinking,” he answered slowly, “ whether it is 
worth while to exchange the leopard for the 
panther. If one’s bones are to be crunched, it 
matters little about the teeth, save that the 
sharper they are the quicker the end.” 

Plutus laughed with some amusement. “ You 
think Otho but a new Nero with another name?” 
he asked. 

“ I fancy either would hold Rome in his palm 
and squeeze it for his own indulgence. If there 
were a man, now, who could be careful of his 
subjects, watchful of their interests, self-for- 
getful even unto death, and—” 

“Bali! Would you expect a Cliristus?” 
laughed the messenger. “ You see how little 
He was fitted to keep His Jewish kingdom. 
Why, he died like a thief upon the cross! No, 
no! what we want is a man, indeed, but not such 
a man! Rome would not know what to do with 
a ruler who did not ride over her in his chariot. 
She adores a tyrant!” 

Hector sighed. He felt this was too near the 
truth to be denied. Only the week before he had 
seen the people unveil a golden statue to 
Poppoea, and at Caesar’s command bow before 
it in worship as to a goddess, then rend the air 
with cries of rapture, as the imperial pair rode 
through the streets in their new chariot, 
wrought from ivory in the similitude of a swan, 
and set with precious stones. All this unap- 
proachable splendor intoxicated them. Even 
envy fell before it. 

Nero had reached a summit whose glory set 
him apart, and the populace gazed, and hailed 
him a god. But Hector, knowing the stains 
upon his record, the pettinesses of his character, 
the cowardice beneath his bravado, felt a deep 
disgust which it was difficult, always, to con- 
ceal. He had begun to long for purity, and this 
hypocrite in a high place revolted him to the 
depths. 

The interview was long, but conclusive. Both 
Aulus and Hector refused to act in the matter, 
and after mutual pledges of profound secrecy, 
Plutus withdrew. When he had left their pres- 
ence Aulus turned to his client. 

“ Hector,” he said impulsively, “ I am glad you 
stood by me in this. You said rightly when you 
inferred that such a change of masters was but 
a change of evils. And yet the day is coming— 


80 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


yes, we will live to see it— when this people will 
turn and rend their Caesar, even as now they 
deify him. Do you not believe me?” 

Hector nodded thoughtfully. “ It is only a 
question of time, Sir Praetor.” Then in a lower 
tone: “ But, meanwhile, if he is determined to 
crush you? I have heard of this latest slight, 
my Aulus; you were entirely ignored in the last 
festival. WJiere every singer appeared, the 
voice of Aulus Clotius was silent; where the viol- 
players numbered fourscore, the instrument of 
the brave general and praetor was absent.” 

A quick flush dyed the other’s bronzed cheek. 
“ Such an insult is in reality an ovation, my 
Hector. Nero will not see himself surpassed, 
so he bars me out. If his malice ends there, I 
am fortunate. The son of Aleutius can exist 
without a stage success— he will leave that to 
the Emperor!” 

The tone was bitterly sarcastic, but his laugh 
rang out as carelessly as ever. “ Come, come! 
what matters? Caesar cannot rob me of my 
recollections, nor dare he hinder the Praetorian 
Guards from flashing their swords in military 
salute whenever I appear; no more can he take 
from me the love of my mother, wife, and chil- 
dren— nor of such as thee, my brave, true Hec- 
tor! Let him enjoy his triumphs; the earth is 
wide.” 

A few days later a sudden order summoned 
the praetor to the Palace, and at the hour when 
the party of Gaius was on the Appian Way, 
nearing the Three Taverns, Aulus was waiting 
in the anteroom of Nero’s judgment hall, trying 
to subdue his forebodings and steel his counten- 
ance into utter indifference towards whatever 
new blow the tyrant might have in store for 
him. He was not kept waiting long, and when 
he entered the wide apartment beyond, he was 
almost dazed by his reception. Instead of the 
supercilious smile or the frowning brow to 
which he was used, Nero turned upon him a look 
of frank pleasure, seemingly, and cried with 
heartiness: 

“ Come hither, Sir Praetor! I have a question 
to ask of you.” 

Bowing low, and wondering what this might 
betoken, Aulus advanced to the foot of the 
throne, and bent his knee before the curled and 
perfumed Emperor. But when he rose he could 
not restrain a start, while his face paled per- 
ceptibly— at his right hand stood Plutus, the 
messenger, an inscrutable look upon his face 
and his eyes discreetly lowered. 

“ I am lost!” thought Aulus, and drew himself 
up proudly, resolved that Nero, who had once 
been his familiar friend, should not be gratified 
by signs of weakness. 

But Caesar was speaking. “ Aulus Clotius, 
general and praetor, do you know this man?” 
He pointed to Plutus, who did not raise his eyes. 

Aulus gazed at the messenger serutinizingly. 

“ Unless l am mistaken, Caesar, he is Plutus 


Aurelius, a commander of cavalry, and a brave 
soldier.” 

“ Indeed! And this is all you know of him?” 

“ It comprises most of my knowledge, sire. In 
detail, I know him also to be a good talker, and 
a man of rare ability as a disciplinarian.” 

Nero laughed. “ Then you have talked with 
him?” 

“ Often, Caesar.” 

“ With what purport?” 

Aulus seemed groping for definite recollec- 
tions. “ It is difficult to remember all, O Caesar, 
but generally upon matters of warfare, as I be- 
think me.” 

“ And have you never talked of Caesar?” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“With what conclusion? Come, let me hear 
all.” 

The Emperor, with a smile of cunning, leaned 
easily back and tapped the golden lion-lieads of 
his throne-arms with his long finger-nails. 

Aulus noted the manner, and a feeling of des- 
peration came over him. So far he had told the 
truth, if not the whole truth; every answer had 
been in consonance with facts, if not with the 
fact which Nero was striving to obtain from 
him. He felt that in reality concealment was of 
little use, for undoubtedly Nero knew all; still, 
honor would not permit him to betray a com- 
rade-in-arms, even to save himself. In his des- 
peration he suddenly resolved to make a bold 
stroke, let the consequences be what they might, 
and with the quick resolve came something of 
that grim daring which made this man of 
effeminate tastes a hero in real stress and dan- 
ger. 

Bending a little forward and letting a twinkle 
creep into his eye, he answered easily: 

“ At last Caesar has awakened my memory. I 
did talk with Plutus and express myself too 
freely, doubtless. I said the noble Caesar had 
failed woefully in judgment once, for he had 
spoiled a good general to make a poor praetor 
when he called me to that office. And Plutus 
agreed with me.” 

Nothing so pleased Nero as dauntlessness, 
and the mingled humor and audacity of this 
answer fairly took him off his feet. He broke 
into laughter, which proved contagious. His 
favorites joined in, Aulus felt his own face 
twitching, and Plutus suddenly put his hand 
over his mouth as if to conceal his risibles. For 
the minute Nero’s better self was in the ascend- 
ency, and he showed clemency, which so well, 
but alas so seldom, became him! 

“ It is bravely said, my Aulus!” he cried, when 
he could speak for laughing, “ and I cannot mis- 
doubt your judgment, however you may that of 
Gsesar, for a poorer praetor never wore the toga! 
Go, rascal! I am done with you. And if you 
are presently ordered to take command of the 
legion about to be sent into Gaul, blame your- 
self only. Such bluntness is best lifted for the 
field. Go!” 


* 

THE WEE STEER OF PHILIPPI. 81 


Dazed and delighted, Anlus made haste to re- 
tire, fearing that another word, or look even, 
might alter this benignant mood. 

W hen safely outside, however, he thought re- 
gretfully: “But poor Plutus is in sad case. I 
have not betrayed him, thank heaven! yet it is 
plain enough. Caesar knows all. I shall never see 
Plutus again. Some dungeon will swallow him 
up, unless for his former bravery he is permitted 


you for it! But is it possible you do not under- 
stand, even yet?” 

“ Understand? What?” Aldus gazed at him 
perplexedly. 

“ Truly, general, you are a poor praetor, as you 
say, if you cannot unravel such a simple knot of 
duplicity as this.” 

A wave of color flushed the open face of Aldus, 
then faded slowly. “ Do you mean— was that 



“Number Seven!” called Euphrastus; and the youngest prisoner answered clearly, “Here!” 
as he took his place in line.— See page 8 3. 


to fall upon his own sword, or open his veins. 
Peace to his ashes!” 

Imagine, then, his astonishment, the next 
morning, to meet the cavalry commander in the 
forum, # not only alive and well, but looking un- 
usually smiling and assured. Aulus was almost 
too surprised to speak, but his expressive face, 
as he held out his hand in greeting, made the 
other break into laughter. 

“ You had evidently consigned me to oblivion, 
my brave Aulus!” he cried merrily. “ Is it not 
so?” 

“ What else could I do? I saw Caesar must 
know all— or enough at least” — he lowered his 
voice and looked cautiously around, — “ but I was 
determined not to be your betrayer.” 

“So I perceived, my noble friend, find thank 


message— were those papyri you would have had 
me sign, really from— Caesar?” 

•“Whom else?” 

“And I— great Olympus! If I had signed 
them! It was a plot then to prove my loyalty?” 

“ Something of that nature, doubtless,” smiled 
the other. 

Aulus looked actually blank with astonish- 
ment, then came a quick recollection. “ But I 
said— .Tove! What did I say, Plutus?” 

The other laughed outright. “ Never mind 
what you said, comrade. Would I be base 
enough to betray one who shared his water-skin 
with me that blazing day on the plain of 
Astivari? Y r ou did not and would not sign— that 
was my report, and Caesar once more loves his 
old friend Aulus, though he does sing far too 


82 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


well to please him. Learn wisdom, friend! Be 
dumb henceforth; have a rheum that shall ruin 
your voice, dash your viol against a tree, and be 
content to worship Mars rather than the Muses, 
delightful though they be.” 

“ It is good advice and I will follow it. Flutus, 
you have warmed my heart! Rome has at 
least two men who can be trusted to stand by a 
friend— pardon the egotism that makes me glad 
I am one of them. And see here, comrade — if 
fortune favors me once more, ask what you will 
of your brotlier-in-arms, for we stand or fall to- 
gether.” 

Hector shared with his patron the sudden and 
astonishing accession to favor which followed 
upon this farcical performance of Nero’s. Our 
centurion felt it even before lie knew the cause. 
He saw it in the salute of the guards on duty as 
he went to the Praetorium for his morning in- 
spection; he read it in the kindly nod of Burrhus 
as they passed each other in the gardens later; 
and he knew it when a kindly message sum- 
moned him to the presence of the emperor, and 
he was bidden, as of old, to strip off his shirt of 
mail and engage in a wrestling match with a 
burly ambassador from one of the provinces, 
who had been boasting of his muscle. 

It was a short encounter. Restored courage 
and anticipation made Hector invincible that 
morning, and he soon had the astonished 
Bithynian upon his back, with one knee pinning 
him to the floor, while the banqueting chamber 
rang with applause. 

“ AVell done, Hector!” cried Nero heartily. “ I 
told you he would win, Tigellinus! There is a 
trick he has that only an Olympionic knows, and 
it is a sure throw every time.” 

“ I would like well to see him try it on Anis- 
archus,” remarked the favorite gloomily, for he 
had lost a heavy wager. “ He is simply unap- 
proachable.” 

“ Oh, you mean the gladiator?” asked another, 
whose flowing locks and toga proved him a poet. 
“ He is certainly a remarkable wrestler. Has 
he ever been vanquished?” 

“ No, and he lias been matched against a 
score, at least, of trained men from every coun- 
try. Such muscles! Such long, powerful arms! 
They say his grip is like that of a steel vise.” 

Thus they talked on, but Hector, being dis- 
missed with a gift, heard no more, and thought 
little of the matter, for what likelihood was 
there that he would ever meet this famed 
, wrestler, who was a condemned criminal, only 
saved alive, so far, by the downturned thumbs 
of the populace who delighted in his prowess! 

As our centurion passed outside the palace 
gates into the street he heard his name called, 
and looked around to see one of his guards 
hastening towards him, who, after saluting, 
placed in his hand an order. It was signed by 
Burrhus, and bade him take personal superin- 
tendence of a Jewish prisoner lately arrived in 
Rome, who, being free-born and notable, had 


been permitted to remain in his own hired 
house, well guarded. Hector was further or- 
dered to detail a certain number of soldiers to re- 
lieve each other in being chained to the pris- 
oner, and, in flue, to keep him with discretion 
and care, after the usual manner. 

He hastened immediately to the designated 
street, and was soon in the presence of Paul, 
whom he at once recognized as his own fellow- 
prisoner in the past, for whom an earthquake 
shock had wrought a miracle. 

Hector treated the illustrious prisoner with 
marked respect, exchanging courteous remarks 
upon the strange and varied events which had 
brought them together once more, then the cen- 
turion asked if there was anything he could do 
to further the Apostle’s comfort during his en- 
forced confinement. But Paul had no complaints 
nor requests to make concerning food, warmth, 
or personal comfort of any description; only two 
favors he begged— papyrus, stylus, and ink, 
that lie might write to his beloved brethren in 
the church; and the permission to call together 
the Jews of the city, that he might personally 
address them upon the subject of the Christ. 
These requests Hector at once granted, and, 
giving strict orders that the Apostle should be 
indulged in every reasonable desire, he left a de- 
tail to guard him, and, bidding him a courteous 
good-morning, took his way to the house of 
Salome, to tell her of his renewed favor at court 
and (what he supposed would be news) all about 
the arrival of Paul the Apostle, as a prisoner 
who had appealed unto Caesar for trial. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

AN IMPERIAL COMPACT. 

T HE new prisoners, with the exception of 
Paul and his special companion, Aris- 
tarchus, were consigned to the dungeons 
of the forum, two of the largest cells being given 
them, with an unlocked door of communication 
between. Here all the men were confined, while 
the two women, Eunice and Elizabeth, were 
placed in a smaller cell not far away. 

This prison was in charge of an official well 
known to Hector, Euphrastus by name, and as 
the former came from his interview with 
Salome, who had told him all about the Chris- 
tian prisoners, he was pleased to see the man 
lounging on the steps of the judgment hall. 

“ Peace to you!” cried Hector, showing his 
pleasure frankly. “ You are the very one I de- 
sired to see. I have in mind a favor to ask of 
you.” 

“The gods keep you!” returned Euphrastus. 
“ But what is the favor, pray? You know it will 
be granted, if in my power.” 

“Thanks, friend! It is not one that will 
greatly strain your generosity. You have a new 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


83 


batch of prisoners, I learn, and they are Chris- 
tians.” 

“ Right as usual, Hector!” 

“Well, then, I simply have a curiosity to see 
them. Cannot you let me accompany you upon 
your rounds this morning?” 

“ Noon, you might say, for the sun is high. 
However, I have been slow about the inspection 
this morning on account of some fresh orders I 
was awaiting. As to your accompanying me 
— well, it is not strictly allowable, but — what is 
your interest in these people, forsooth?” 

“ Curiosity,” was the prompt reply. 

“ I see. You have heard of their obnoxious 
practices. Queer, too, for I find them as docile 
as could be desired. They do nothing worse — 
that 1 can discover— than to sing and pray to- 
gether. I have seen no blood-thirstiness in 
them, and they give me no trouble whatever. 
Yes, come with me; I am going down now to 
number them out?” 

“ For what?” asked Hector quickly. 

“ Have you not heard? They are to be sacri- 
ficed in the games at the amphitheatre, at the 
celebration of Poppoea’s birthday. So many to 
the beasts, so many for the naval combat, and 
the rest to fight with gladiators.” 

“ But the women?” cried Hector in horror. 

“Who told you there were women?” asked 
Euphrastus, turning upon him suspiciously. 

“ My sister, the wife of Cleotas. She has been 
permitted by Burrhus to visit them.” 

The answer seemed satisfactory. “ They will 
doubtless be portioned to the wild beasts,” was 
the careless reply. “ I have no orders for them 
so far, but as they cannot fight, what other dis- 
posal could be made of them?” 

Hector did not answer, and the official went 
on relating incidents peculiar to his profession. 
In this friendly fashion they entered the wide 
corridor beside the judgment hall, and at its end 
descended the stairs which led downwards by 
successive flights far underground. Once there 
they pursued a somewhat rambling course 
through the network of passages undermining 
the great building. At intervals Euphrastus 
stopped to fit a key into a lock, open a heavy 
door, and thrust his head within a cell in which 
Hector, glancing over his shoulder, caught dim 
glimpses of some haggard being crouching in 
the quiet of despair. At length at his word, 
“ Here are the Christians!” Hector awoke to 
animation, and looked eagerly as the door swung 
wide, for while the two approached a murmur of 
tuneful melody reached their ears and he knew 
that, after their happy custom, these men were 
singing hymns of comfort and good cheer. 

The music ceased as the door creaked rustily 
on its hinges, and every eye was directed to- 
wards it from within, for no one confined there 
knew at what moment the summons might come 
—the summons to trial, perhaps; more likely to 
death without a hearing. By the light of the* 
lamp in his guide’s hand Hector let his eye run 


over the group before him. He saw grave, self- 
controlled, intelligent faces, worn with the long 
journey and privations, but neither wretched 
nor desperate. On many, indeed, was a smile of 
absolute brightness, and on all an expression of 
security and peace marvelous to behold in such 
a place. 

As he gazed, noting all this with an eye trained 
to observation of human nature, another man 
came in from the adjoining cell, his chains 
clanking as he made his difficult way along. He 
was younger than the rest, with a face and form 
such as sculptors choose when they would em- 
body their choicest creations. Now browned, 
bearded, and somewhat bent with the heavy 
fetters as he was, he still showed the manly 
beauty which had always made him notable. 

As Hector devoured this youth with inquiring 
glances, his own face quite concealed beneath 
his helmet’s visor, the latter looked straight at 
him with large, honest eyes, in which was the 
old boyish expression, unmistakable to one who 
had loved him so well. Hector was almost be- 
trayed into a cry of recognition, for he knew the 
prisoner to be his longed-for brother, Herklas! 
It was all the soldier, trained to absolute self- 
control, could do to stand there like a statue, 
when his whole soul was crying out in fond wel- 
come, when his arms twitched to enfold the boy 
he had cherished from babyhood, when his eyes 
ached with the tears welling into them, and his 
throat with the sobs he must suppress. He had 
no eyes; no thought, for any one else, and he 
waited with a passionate desire to hear this 
prisoner’s voice, knowing that evidence would 
be conclusive. 

Euphrastus, meanwhile, had drawn forth his 
tablets and stylus, and was calling each by num- 
ber — for a Roman prisoner dropped his name 
with his liberty— and marshalling them side by 
side along the opposite wall. Hector, standing 
motionless and absorbed just within the locked 
door, was to them but a Praetorian guard on 
duty. They attributed to him a heart, as w T ell as 
garments, of steel, and thought that with cold, 
unmoved eyes he was gazing through the holes 
of his visor, alert only to quell any disturbance. 
How could one of them have imagined that 
behind that shirt of mail the heart w T as beating 
to suffocation, behind the closed visor the face 
was working with tenderness, and that the 
shaded eyes were swimming in tears! 

“ Number Seven!” called Euphrastus; and the 
youngest prisoner answered clearly, “ Here!” 
as he took his place in line. 

It w 7 as enough — Hector knew! The boy of his 
own raising, the lad for whom he had labored 
like a father, the brother wiio had been cher- 
ished in his inmost heart, w r as here — a Christian, 
and doomed to a horrible death! 

A groan welled up from his tortured soul, but 
died upon his lips. He dared not give it sound. 
The dim and crowded cell swam before him, but 
he moved not. Roman discipline quelled his 


84 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


weakness, and kept him the grim, silent sen- 
tinel, though faint with feeling. 

The numbering continued till all were crowded 
about the three walls of the narrow room, and 
Hector, gradually conquering his first agony of 
recognition, grew intensely interested in the 
scene, noticing that while all looked expectant 
and some curious, not one but was serenely 
courageous in bearing. Euphrastus, holding his 
lantern high, looked them all over carefully, 
then once more consulted his tablets. After an 
interval he slowly called the even numbers, and 
bade them stand forth from the rest. They did 
so, and he noted them down with accuracy. 

“ These,” he whispered to the silent Hector at 
his side, “ are for the naval battle.” 

Next he called the odd numbers. There being 
eleven prisoners, in all, there was one more of 
these than of the even. He noted them as be- 
fore, with the whisper: 

“ These are for the beasts.” 

Hector repressed a shudder. Herklas was 
Number Seven! There would have been a 
chance for him in the naval combat, for he could 
swim— there was none here! But Euphrastus 
went on: 

“ I am to select two out of this greater number 
as gladiators; one for the net, and one to be done 
to death by Anisarclius, the champion wrestler.” 

A sudden inspiration came to Hector, hardly 
defined as yet, but bringing a ray of hope. He 
whispered back eagerly: 

“ Let me select the men, my Euphrastus! I 
was once skilled in the training of the arena, 
and we would fain make these combats interest- 
ing.” • 

“True!” answered the keeper, well pleased. 
“ Then give us your judgment, friend. I doubt 
not it will be far better than my own.” 

Hector, thus permitted, ran his eyes quickly 
over the group. One of the men— Number Three 
—was thin, long-legged, and wiry. 

“ Take him for the net-throwing,” he mur- 
mured; and Euphrastus, with a laugh and ad- 
miring oath, at once approved. 

Hector's second choice seemed to take him 
longer. He scrutinized each more than once, 
but at length appeared satisfied. 

“ Let the opponent of Anisarclius be Number 
Seven,” he said in a voice hoarse almost to ex- 
tinction. 

“Jove! That slender, beautiful youth? He 
will be crushed like a. mouse in the jaws of a 
cat.” 

“ Be not so sure, friend. He is quick and 
muscular. It will be at least a livelier battle 
than if any of these older men, with stiffened 
sinews and slow movements, were chosen. Iu- 
deed, I feel more and more satisfied with my 
choice.” 

Hector's hoarseness and agitation had disap- 
peared. He seemed almost gay. Whatever his 
sudden resolution, it gave him courage and hope, 
and after they left the cell, while ascending to 


the upper air, he was so talkative and merry as 
to keep the other in a roar of laughter. 

They separated the best of friends, Euphras- 
tus vowing his self-elected helper a good fel- 
low; and when the latter said carelessly, at part- 
ing, “ I may want to take another look at my 
gladiators sometime,” the keeper answered 
heartily, “Whenever you wish, comrade!” 

But the instant he was alone Hector gave way. 
Seeking a secluded bench in the public gardens 
near by— a rustic seat embowered in a jasmine 
vine, making a shrine to Minerva— he threw 
himself down upon it, and clasping his arms 
over the back, bent his head upon them and 
groaned aloud. 

“ My brother! My little Herklas!” he mur- 
mured in a voice thrilled with tenderness, while 
wave after wave of recollection rolled over him, 
until his heart grew weak with the strain. 

Long he sat thus, great sobs racking his frame 
as he wavered betwixt the joy of once more see- 
ing his brother and the torture of such a meet- 
ing. 

“Do I find you only to lose you again?” he 
groaned. “ Oh, God of the Christians, hear and 
help me in this extremity! Thou hast shown me 
my brother— help me to save him! Give me 
Caesar’s ear, O gracious Lord, that he may grant 
my request, and fill me with Thine own nvin- 
cible strength in this encounter, that Herklas 
may be saved a cruel death. For Christ’s sake!' 

He rose, calm and strong and returned to his 
duties, uplifted by a purpose that dominated all 
lesser thoughts, and a consecration to Christ 
that, in spite of grief and fear, brought him 
a certain bliss and comfort which no earthly 
woes could take away. It needed but little re- 
flection to convince him that it was best not to 
tell Salome what he knew. Why rack her with 
his own torture? Already she was sufficiently 
grieved over her friend Elizabeth; why add to 
this a still more bitter trouble? No, she had 
long since given up Herklas as lost. Let her re- 
main in calm unconsciousness of his presence 
and give all her energies to her dear friend. 
She could not save Herklas; he might. If he 
did, there would be a glad reunion, indeed; if he 
did not— then let her never know the awful 
truth. 

Hector at once began laying his train of opera- 
tions. By a little diplomacy, easy now that he 
was in favor, he managed to be detailed, with 
some of his men, for special guard-duty in the 
palace. Once there, he was careful to take up 
his own station, every evening, in the corridor 
leading to Nero’s private apartments, and, as he 
expected, found it often devolved upon him to 
assist the royal inebriate to bed after the late 
suppers. Once or twice, when the Emperor was 
not too stupid with wine, he recognized the 
wrestler and had him in for a friendly bout with 
the gloves, as he felt his muscles needed harden- 
ing, arid at these times Hector managed adroitly 
to introduce the name of Anisarclius* and, if pos- 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


sible, excite both Nero and his favorites into 
talking and laying wagers over the wrestler’s 
powers. 

It was evident that Nero, for some reason, 
chose to depreciate the champion’s fame, and he 
frankly said more than once that he would like 
to see the swaggerer beaten, for he was growing 
altogether too pompous over his repeated suc- 
cesses. Evidently Nero did not enjoy pomposity 
in any one but himself! 

At length an evening came when Hector was 
summoned, as usual, and this sort of talk ran 
high. Presently Burrhus, who was present, re- 
marked absently: ’ 

“ Well, whether or not the man is all he claims 
to be, he will have an easy victory, at least, at 
our Caesar’s games next month.” 

“ Why, how is that?” asked Lucan the poet. 

“ Because one of the condemned Christians is 
to be pitted against him, a young, slender, hand- 
some fellow of Macedonia. He will be like a kid 
in the grasp of a mountain bear!” 

Hector did not look up, nor start even. He 
held himself with iron steadiness and listened. 

“ Too bad it could not be a more even com- 
bat!” yawned Tigellinus from his couch. “ I 
would like to see a real wrestler stand up 
against him.” 

“ Yes, one like our good Hector, for instance,” 
added the Emperor graciously. “ If only he 
were in training, now, he might give the boaster 
something to do— eh, my centurion?” 

Hector bowed low. “ The noble Caesar is too 
flattering, but ’’—lie hesitated one instant, then 
plunged on, his heart beating wildly, but with 
determination on his face and a prayer in his 
soul — “ but if our Emperor would wish to see his 
servant meet the champion wrestler, it is in his 
power to command it.” 

Nero was pleased. Anything that reminded 
him of his high estate was incense in his nos- 
trils. He turned upon the inwardly-shaken Hec- 
tor with a smile. 

“ Caesar has too much regard for his loyal sol- 
diers ” — he emphasized the word “ loyal ” sig- 
nificantly — “ to condemn them to the mutilation 
and disgrace of the arena. He leaves that to 
captives, criminals, and slaves, who are con- 
demned, or who willingly risk all for money. 
You know such a trial of strength is to the 
death.” 

“ I know, O Caesar!” Hector drew in his 
breath hard. “ Yet to please my lord I would 
gladly risk all. In fact, though he may think 
me a fool for my temerity, I will willingly meet 
this Anisarclius in the place of the Christian 
prisoner, and it shall be a combat to the death. 
But if I conquer I ask one reward— that Caesar 
give me for mine own the handsome young cap- 
tive whose place I take in the arena.” 

It was said. Hector, bowing to the ground, 
felt the room whirl around him amid a confused 
clamor of laughter and hand clapping. Then 
Caesar spoke, and all stopped to listen. 


85 

“ So you long for a slave of your own, Hec- 
tor? And more, for a good-looking one. How 
the lowly do love to ape their masters! But 
what would you with this slave, when the sol- 
diers under you are at your lightest beck?” 

Hector smiled. “ I cannot beat them, Caesar.” 

“True enough! And that is a satisfaction, I 
own. Well, so be it. But I fear I will lose a 
good soldier by the exchange. You are not in 
training, Hector.” 

“ There are three weeks yet, O Caesar, and I 
have been daily attending the gymnasium, for 
some time. Pray let me try, under the con- 
ditions.” 

“ That you get the slave? Oh, yes, take him 
by all means— if you live through it— and beat 
this Christian nonsense out of him. That will 
be good practice for your muscles!” 

“I have Caesar’s word?” asked Hector once 
more, knowing so well the tyrant’s changeable 
moods that he dreaded trusting to them in so 
important a matter. 

“Assuredly; here are my witnesses and— but 
wait! You have a stylus and papyrus, Lucan— I 
see them thrust into your girdle. Come now, 
draw us up a compact in verse, can you not? 
Let us see what you can do as poet. and lawyer 
combined.” 

Lucan, flushing uncomfortably, could not re- 
fuse, though he felt the task beyond him; and 
while Hector stood by, outwardly the impassive 
soldier, inwardly the fearful, supplicating 
brother, Lucan wrote busily, the rest looking on 
with faces full of merry curiosity. 

To these it was but a break in the monotony of 
their splendid feasting; to the other it was an 
hour upon the rack. At length the poet looked 
up with a sigh of relief. “ It is written, noble 
Csesar, but I fear it is neither poetic, nor 
clerkly.” 

“ If only it will hold!” murmured Hector al- 
most involuntarily. 

“ Never mind!” laughed Nero, unheeding the 
low-spoken words. “ I suppose it will be just 
as binding if I put my seal to it. Read, Lucan!” 

And Hector breathed again. 

The embarrassed poet was doubtless right in 
his opinion of the document. It might not, per- 
haps, have stood in any court, but Nero was 
his own court, and respected nothing save his 
own seal and signature. Freely translated, it 
read as follows: 

“ This compact holds ’twixt parties two: 
Primus, the great Imperator, 

Nero Claudius Drusus, who 
Rules all the earth in peace and war. 
Secundus, Hector, known to men 
As of the guards Praetorian, 

And honored with the rank and claim 
Of Celeres, centurion. 

Hector, secundus, here agrees 
To meet in combat to the death 
The far-famed Anisarclius, who 
Is champion wrestler — so he saith. 


» 


86 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


And should said Hector, in fair fight. 

Twice throw this man and still endure, 
Great Caesar, primus, promiseth 
Above his seal and signature 
This guerdon, namely: That the man 
To Anisarehus doomed before 
Be given Hector as his own, 

To have and hold for evermore.” 

The reading was greeted with shouts of laugh- 
ter and merry jests, Nero’s sounding above all 
the rest, as he cried: 

“You are right, Lucan! It would stand in 
neither law nor literature, but it may in Caesar’s 
will. Come, I will sign it.” 

Instantly a slave stepped forward and bent 
over to form a table of his broad back, while an- 
other brought ink, w T ax, and stylus. Hector 
watched breathlessly as the royal name was 
affixed, the melted wax dropped upon the 
papyrus, and the royal ring pressed into its 
molten substance for a seal. 

“ Here, it is yours to keep,” said Nero, flinging 
it carelessly in Hector’s direction. “ Caesar 
needs no reminders to carry out his promises. 
Take it, and do your part, or it will be the worse 
for you. I wish to see a really decent match. 
Go!” 

Hector, bowing low, withdrew, the parchment 
grasped in his palm, but when he was alone in 
the outer corridor he raised it to heaven in his 
right hand, and looked up reverently, as he 
murmured : 

“ Now the God of the Christians strengthen 
this good right arm, and you shall be mine, my 
brother!” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A VAGABOND BEFORE THE MAGISTRATE. 

I T was fifteen days later and nearing noon. A 
small group in earnest discourse was gath- 
ered in the peristyle of the palace of Aulus 
Clotius. One was the praetor himself, and the 
others were Pamphylia, his mother, and his fair 
wife, Julia. They were talking over his recent 
promotion (as he esteemed it) to the generalship 
of a legion of the Celeres, or royal troops, and 
what it doubtless portended— his soon being 
ordered to Gaul to quell a mutinous uprising 
there, which threatened to be serious. 

“ If only we could go too!” said Pamphylia, 
sadly. “ It is so trying waiting for news by the 
slow couriers, and I am sure something has hap- 
pened to you if the despatches are at all delayed. 
Oh, the hardest part of war is the woman’s 
part!” 

“ Yes,” said Julia, coming to her husband’s 
side, and throwing an arm about his neck, 
“ and mother’s fears make mine all the greater. 
But you wdll not go till after the birthday cele- 
brations?” 

“ No, I shall stay for those. I must see Hec- 


tor through this mad freak of his. I cannot 
think what has come over him to insist upon try- 
ing his strength with that burly Anisarehus, and 
for so paltry a consideration— one slave! Surely 
he has the means to buy himself a servant; and 
if not, I would gladly have given him a man out 
of my first consignment of captives. But he will 
not listen to my arguments or promises, nor will 
he fully explain his motives. There must be 
something more than this silly desire to acquire 
human property. Sometimes I think the old 
wrestling fever has repossessed him — as my 
war fever now and then dominates me in times 
of peace, until all my veins are in a turmoil of 
hot blood — and that lie can no longer control it. 
He is ready to risk death, even, to prove once 
more his own powers.” 

“ That is what Celeste thinks,” returned Julia. 
“ Even her pleadings do not move him— fight he 
will and must!” 

“ Mayhap his sister's interest in the prisoners 
has awakened his,” said Pamphylia thought- 
fully; “and from what I hear of these Chris- 
tians, now, the sect must have been greatly 
maligned before. I understand that you, Aulus, 
have been exerting yourself to clear this woman 
—Elizabeth, is her name?” 

“ Yes, to please my old friend Gains, as well as 
Hector and his sister. Not only Elizabeth, but 
her companion, Eunice, though I hardly think 
the latter will live until next week. She is fail- 
ing rapidly. Y r es, I have done my best for them, 
but in vain. There must be plenty of victims 
for the spectacles, and these cannot be spared.” 

“But women!” cried Julia. “That seems too 
hard! Men can make a show of defense, at 
least, but with women it is only slaughter.” 

“ Nero loves slaughter,” said Aulus calmly. 
“He fattens on it. What a master to serve!” 
His tone expressed deep disgust. “ I have been 
thinking often, lately, of the sentence that 
seems to come naturally to the lips of these 
Christians: ‘ One is my Master, even Christ.’ 
It would be a happiness to serve such a Leader, 
who called Himself ‘ friend ’ and ‘ elder 
brother ’ to His disciples. I sometimes revolt 
at the service I give to Nero; I cannot help it!” 

There was a moment's silence, then Julia re- 
marked: 

“ I hear that this man whose place Hector 
takes has a wife in the city who is under the 
protection of a friend of yours; is that so?” 

“ Yes, this same Gaius of Macedonia— a fine 
fellow, too! He is working with me in this mat- 
ter, and seems deeply interested. When we 
were together, the other day, I noticed that he 
turned and frequently examined my counten- 
ance in a critical manner. Finally he said 
apologetically, ‘ Pardon me, but there is some- 
thing about you occasionally that reminds me 
of this very person we have been speaking of— 
Agistha, wife of Number Seven in the prison. 

I cannot say whether it is your expression, man- 
ner, or voice — hardly your general complexion, I 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


87 


think, for she is darker than you— but it is there, 
and unmistakable.' Naturally this interested 
me. Now, why do you not both go to call upon 
the Lady JEnone and her friend? Perchance 
you, mother, can tell whether it is all imagina- 
tion with Gaius, or not.” 

“ We have intended to go for some time,” said 
Julia. “ Suppose we say we will to-morrow, 
mother — does that suit you?” 

“ Perfectly, my child. To-morrow let it be.” 

The next afternoon was very warm, and 
Agistha, worn out with grief, left her baby 
sleeping and strolled into the peristyle, where 
the fountain was playing to freshen the air. 
She had heard of the man who had, strangely 
enough, bargained for her husband’s life by the 
risk of his own. But she knew nothing of him. 
except that he was a centurion, and she spent 
hours in vain imaginings as to the outcome of 
the matter. If the soldier won, Herklas would 
be a slave— and she? , 

“ I shall beg to follow him,” she told herself 
with loyal determination. “ I must be with my 
husband, even in slavery!” But she dared not 
let herself hope too freely, for what if the man 
should fail? 

She was dreaming thus to-day as she sat in 
her loose robe, leaning gracefully against the 
stone rim which encircled the basin of the 
fountain. One slender, sandaled foot was brac- 
ing the inclined body, and one bare, round arm 
was thrown against the marble rampart for her 
cheek to rest against. 

She wore no jewels in her grief. Her loose 
curls of dark hair were confined only by a tripli- 
cate bandeau of silver cord gleaming amid its 
soft duskiness. The loose tunic, of an amethyst 
shade, was bound to her slim body by crossed 
ribbons of the deeper hue of purple verging upon 
crimson, replacing the ordinary girdle, its 
fringed ends falling low over the long gown. 
With her dark lashes lying upon her waxen 
cheek, and her arm softly pink against the mar- 
ble’s cold whiteness, she was a vision of pensive 
loveliness. 

The entrance of Pamphylia and Julia, follow- 
ing Harold the page, was so quiet that Agistha 
was not at first aroused from her deep reverie, 
and the older lady had time to think, “ How 
charming!” while the younger, after one glance, 
turned with a hasty whisper: 

“ Why, mother, she is your very image, only 
younger!” 

The little rustle they made aroused Agistha, 
and she sprang to her feet with a courteous wel- 
come, as Harold spoke their names. But while 
she greeted the elder lady the eyes of both 
lingered in meeting, and each felt so drawn to 
the other that it was difficult to keep the saluta- 
tion within the bounds of conventionality. 
When iEnone appeared the three were convers- 
ing without a break, and almost before she had 
greeted the guests, her eyes flashed from the 


Roman matron of noble blood to her own loved 
but humble companion; but, though she checked 
the exclamation that sprang to her lips, Julia 
had noticed the glance and broke out in her 
lively fashion: “You see it. too, do you not? 
They are enough alike to be mother and daugh- 
ter!” 

Pamphylia looked at Agistha with a sweet 
wistfulness, which made the other’s cheeks flush 
with pleasure. She longed to throw herself at 
the dear old lady’s feet, even as the latter could 
scarcely keep from crying out, “ Come and kiss 
me, my child!” and while flEnone and Julia ex- 
claimed, the others drew closer in soul. 

The call was prolonged to an unusual length, 
and the four separated, at last, with mutual 
promises of future meetings, though amid the 
courtesies Agistha’s face grew somber — what 
future was there for her? 

“ It is really wonderful, mother!” cried Julia, 
as they entered their waiting cisium, or light 
cabriolet, drawn by two perfectly matched 
mules and driven by a tiny Nubian. “ She has 
your voice, even, not to speak of that flower-like 
droop of the neck, and that sudden upward 
honest gaze into one’s eyes whenever directly 
addressed. It put me in a sort of daze to watch 
you both, and see the similarity. Are you sure 
she does not belong to some branch of your 
house, and has thus inherited a few of the 
family traits?” 

Pamphylia smiled. “Would it were so! I 
confess I was strongly drawn to her. but I have 
the impression that she is a Macedonian, and 
none of our family are found there, you know. 
It is, I suppose, only one of those freaks of na- 
ture which sometimes make two people, even of 
different nationalities, so marvelously alike as 
to deceive their nearest friends. Really, the 
wonder is that there are not more such resem- 
blances. Think of the limited number of fea- 
tures we all possess— a nose, a mouth, two eyes— 
and the millions of creatures who bear them, 
and yet we are astonished when any two closely 
resemble each other!” 

Julia laughed. “ What a philosopher you are, 
mother! But it is marvelous, now you remind 
me of it— this diversity in similarity. Surely the 
gods must give deep thought to their work, and 
have great unity in plan. I wonder at it, too, for 
there are so many, and they are so full of their 
own affairs, it would scarcely seem as if . they 
could have any time left for us.” 

“ Doubtless they divide the cares, as the 
honors,” returned Pamphylia, then lapsed into 
thoughtful silence, as she often did when their 
beliefs were discussed, for there were many 
things which puzzled— some which revolted — 
her in the worship of the day. Though by na- 
ture loyal to both “ king and creed,” her better 
sense told her that many practices were far 
from being worthy the purity of her regard, and 
this often faltered into questionings which tore 
her heart and burdened her conscience. 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI. 


88 


The lively Julia was soon telling her husband 
all about the call, and speculating upon the re- 
semblance. 

“ It is a little odd, notwithstanding mother’s 
philosophizing,” lie remarked, as she finished 
her detailed account. “ I would like to see the 
lady. Well, let us hope that poor Hector will 
win for her sake, as well as for his own.. He is 
practicing in the gymnasium every day, and 
seems confident and happy enough.” 

“ But the captive women!” cried Julia. “ They 
are doomed.” 

“ I fear so,” returned her husband sadly. 
“ Poor things! It is a terrible fate.” 

Yet, in spite of this sympathy for individual 
cases, both were soon gayly discussing the 
choice of seats in the amphitheatre, for even 
the best of the Romans took these degrading, 
blood-thirsty spectacles as a matter of course, 
and would have felt defrauded could they not 
have witnessed them. 

They were in the midst of lively conversation 
when a servant entered, bearing a silver salver 
whereon lay a small tablet of papyrus, which 
lie presented on one knee to his master. Aulus 
caught it up and read it, then turned to his 
wife. 

“ I am summoned to the judgment hall,” he 
said briskly. “ Some criminal who comes under 
my jurisdiction has been apprehended;” and 
kissing her, he hurried out, for he was still act- 
ing as praetor, not yet having received his 
official discharge. 

He soon reached the hall, and took his seat, 
ready for his magistrate part in the proceed- 
ings." In the prisoner’s enclosure stood a man 
who wore the peculiar headgear of a Phoenician. 
He was lined and marred with dissipation and 
misery, more than with age, and he looked both 
hungry and wretched. He had been discovered 
within the garden of Gaius, probably bent on 
plunder, and the latter sat in one of the witness 
seats at the left, ready to testify against him. 
The praetor began his investigation with the 
usual question: 

“ What is your name?” 

“ Alois,” was the answer. 

“ From Phoenicia?” 

“ Yes, sire.” 

“ How old?” 

“ Forty-two.” 

“ Free-born, or slave?” 

“ Manumitted slave.” 

Thus the examination proceeded, the prisoner 
testifying with an air of desperate carelessness, 
as if it made little difference to him what the 
outcome might be. He seemed to have grown 
indifferent to his own fate. When asked wliat. 
was his object in concealing himself in the gar- 
den of Gaius, he smiled in a peculiar manner 
and answered calmly: “I wanted to see my 
slave.” 

The cool reply produced a sensation. 

“ Your slave?” cried Aulus Clotius. “ A crea- 


ture like you have a slave! Now tell the 
truth, or we shall be obliged to resort to the 
screws.” 

The prisoner shrugged his shoulders. “ Never- 
theless it is true. I owned a half-share in a 
slave, and this man, Gaius, took her from me. 
She had been gone many years, but I discovered 
her retreat at last, and had the curiosity to see 
her again, for I had supposed her dead. I was 
fond of her.” 

Gaius looked flushed and embarrassed under 
the glances cast upon him by the lookers-on, as 
he began to see the significance of this man’s 
answers, and feared it might involve himself in 
much unpleasantness and Agistha in trouble; 
for the laws governing runaway slaves were 
severe, and here undoubtedly was one of the 
wretched so-called masters of that unhappy 
woman. How had he found them out after 
so long an interval? and how was he, Gaius, to 
explain the intricate affair? He felt that the 
whole truth was the best policy, and, rising, 
turned courteohsly to the magistrate. 

“ Sir Praetor, may I address the prisoner?” 

“ Assuredly,” returned Aulus; “ but pray keep 
to the point at issue.” 

“ I will, sire. What was the name of this 
slave you claim?” he asked in a clear voice. 

“ Agistha,” said the man. 

Aulus started, and looked from one to the 
other. He recognized the name at once. 

“ Where and when did you obtain her?” 

“ Seventeen years ago, in Ampliipolis of Mace- 
donia.” 

“ Of whom?” 

“ I bought a half-interest in her of Flavius, a 
Roman.” 

“ And a galley slave,” added Gaius quickly. 

The man gave another shrug, and answered 
with a sneer: 

“ Very likely. He was none too good!” 

Gaius turned to the magistrate. “ Sir Praetor, 
this man, I believe, speaks the truth, but in 
order to show why I retain and protect this 
woman, Agistha, as I believe in right and jus- 
tice, I must tell you her story as I had it from 
the lips of Flavius himself, which I can verify 
from writings on record at the judgment hall in 
Tliessalonica, where he was tried under torture, 
found guilty, and relegated to the galleys.” 

Then in well-cliosen words he related the 
singular narrative of the stolen child. As Aulus 
listened, his interest grew more and more in- 
tense. He grasped the arms of his praetor’s 
chair and gazed at the speaker, his face paling 
and flushing with emotion. At length, impa- 
tient of details, he called out sharply: 

“ And this child— how old was she when 
stolen?” 

“About three, methinks,” answered Alois, 
wondering at the patrician’s manner. 

“ She could talk, could she not? Did she never 
give any other name than Agistha?” 

“ I know not,” returned Alois slowly. “ I did 



THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI 


89 


not see her until later, but I fancy Agistha was 
the name Flavius gave her. However—” 

“ Well, why do you hesitate?” 

“ Because it may be nothing. Once when we 
were severely pressed for money he handed me 
a little gold chain and charm, which he said had 
been hers, and bade me erase the name engraved 
on the pendant, so that we might sell it. I re- 
member because it took me all day — ” 

“The name! The name!” shouted Aldus im- 
patiently. 

“ Cleone,” said the man deliberately. 

Aulus fell back in his chair, pale to the lips, 
whne Gains, astonished, strode forward to his 
assistance. 

“ No,” he said, faintly raising his hand, “ I am 
not ill— only— this child was my sister!” 

The announcement was met by a stunned 
silence, which Gaius broke. 

“ Are you certain. Sir Praetor?” 

“ It must be so. Her singular resemblance to 
our family, the time, the circumstances, the 
name, the place— all convince me that this 
Agistha is my lost sister, Cleone, who was stolon 
from the peristyle of our palace when an infant 
nearing four years.” 

He turned abruptly to the guards attending 
the prisoner. “Loose this man!” he com- 
manded. 

The order was at once executed. 

“ Alois,” he added, “ you are to accompany 
the honorable Gaius and myself to his house, 
that together we may converse with the lady 
and see if all your assertions are true.” 

“ But, Sir Praetor,” put in Gaius, “ she knows 
nothing of the things concerning her infancy. 
We have kept them from her— her husband, my 
wife, and I— lest they trouble her mind, and she 
has no memory of them.” 

“Her husband!” At the words Aulus turned 
with an odd expression. “ Her husband is the 
condemned Christian?” he asked in loiv tones, 
stepping to the side of Gaius. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And my Hector is to match the wrestler for 
him! How strange! If he wins it will be a new 
tie between us, indeed! But come, let us to the 
lady.” 

“ You will give me time to prepare her?” asked 
Gaius. “ She is weak with trouble.” 

Aulus laid a hand upon his arm. “ My friend, 
do you feel it necessary to protect my own sister 
from my rude haste?” The tone was full of sad 
reproach. But before the other could explain 
his caution, Aulus added quickly, while the tears 
flashed in his eyes: “ But the gods bless you for 
your care of her! I have no words to thank 
you.” 

They entered the handsome domus, and the 
master hastened to summon his wife and ac- 
quaint her with the wondrous news, that she 
might, in turn, prepare Agistha. But she 
laughed at him. 

“We need no preparation for joy!” she cried 


amid her rapturous exclamations over the good 
news. “ Agistha has borne sorrow with a 
staunch heart. A bit of prosperity and happi- 
ness will not harm her.” 

However, she sent to summon Agistha to the 
atrium, saying she had strange news for her, but 
in no wise concerning Herklas— with whom his 
wife’s every thought was woven, these trying 
days. 

Meanwhile Aulus Clotius and his prisoner re- 
mained alone, and the former studied the latter 
with eyes made critical by new interest. 

“He looks forlorn and hungry, poor wretch! 
but not vicious,” was his unspoken comment. 
“ He said he was fond of her, and seems, from 
the story, to have interfered when she was 
cruelly used. We will see.” 

With the thought Gaius entered, accompanied 
by his wife, flushed, excited, and beautiful in 
her joy. 

“Your sister?” she cried, scarcely waiting to 
greet her guest. “ I knew she was of gentle 
blood; that has proved itself in every way! And 
you ’’—flashing about upon the prisoner— “ are 
the master she did not fear— Alois?” 

He bowed humbly. 

“ She has told me he tried to be kind to her,” — 
addressing Aulus again— “ but was overruled too 
often by his more cruel partner. Do you know 
what has become of him, Alois?” 

“ lie is dead, madam. The galleys soon kill a 
man. He will trouble us no more.” 

The curtains parted again and a hesitating 
figure stood just within them. The slender white 
form in its classic garments was sharply out- 
lined against their dark richness, and Aulus 
drew in his breath with delight as he gazed. 

Agistha turned to the mistress. “ Harold said 
you desired my presence here, Lady iEnone.” 

“ Yes, I— we— Agistha, do you see who is 
here?” 

She looked and paled. “Alois?” she whis- 
pered. “ He has come for me!” 

“No, no, child! Be not frightened. Here is 
another who claims your notice— the noble Aulus 
Clotius, general and praetor.” 

Agistha turned to him with a sweet smile. 
“ Peace to you, sir! I have met your mother, 
and was greatly drawn to her, and to the noble 
Julia.” 

“ And both to you, fair lady. I note a strong 
resemblance between you and my mother.” 

There was a slight tremble in the praetor’s 
voice, but he commanded himself well. 

“ Yes, it has been observed upon before. It 
flatters me.” 

“ Agistha,” asked /Enone, who could wait no 
longer, “ did you ever hear the name of 
Cleone?” 

“ Cleone?” The younger woman spoke the 
word lingeringly as if in a dream. “ Cleone! It 
suggests a noble court with marble columns, 
and a fountain spraying in the sunshine. I 
seem to see a boy at play, and a little— little girl. 


90 


TIIE WRESTLER OF PHI LI PPL 


There is a lady too— fair and sweet. Oh! it is 
like a beautiful dream long since vanished!” 

Aulns had risen. He could no longer control 
himself— he must tell her! Then he sank back 
with the thought, “ No, it will startle her. We 
must come at it gradually,” and had reseated 
himself even before he perceived .Enone’s im- 
perious gesture to that effect. For the matron 
had taken this affair into her own hands. 

0 

“ Agistlia,” she said quickly, “ Alois has told 
all your story. You were stolen, when a mere 
babe, by Flavius from a house — a palatial domus 
—in this very city. Your name was Cleone. 
Now can you recall — ” 

“ Oh, it comes! it comes!” With the cry 
Agistlia shut her eyes tightly, and clapped her 
hands over her ears. “Wait! I remember. 
The boy — he took care of me— I loved him. But 
his name was difficult— I called him Ollie — 
Ollie!” 

Aulns gave a cry of rapture. “My sister! My 
Cleone! It is true, and I am Ollie! Oh. my 
baby darling, don’t you remember me?” 

She opened her eyes and gazed at him. The 
veil of the past seemed rent in twain. 

“ Ollie — brother!” she cried, and the two 
sprang to each other’s embrace, all barriers be- 
tween them forever removed. 

Even Alois wiped his eyes. Enone sobbed 
outright. 

“ Send for my mother!” cried Aulns in a trans- 
port of happiness, “ or no, let me — let us all go 
to her. Alois, you are free because you had one 
tender thought for my beloved sister; and I will 
take you into my household and give you com- 
fort and protection.” 

The man let his eyes rest upon Agistlia. “ I 
mourned her as dead,” he muttered, “ anc> when 
I heard differently my heart yearned over her. 
I regretted those years of oppression and 
wanted to do her good in some way to atone for 
all. I have learned kinder thoughts and man- 
ners from some people I have been with— they 
call them Christians. I wish to tell her 
this very story and help her to recover her 
home. Let me serve her, for I am fond of 
her.” 

“ Then come with us,” said Aulus kindly; and 
Agistlia added: 

“ Yes, Alois, come with us.” 

Gaius and JEnone would not be left behind. 
The palace was not far distant and they chose 
to walk. Pamphylia and Julia sat at their em- 
broidery, just a bit dull and sleepy, the latter 
telling herself she was glad that a few days 
more would usher in the Games. 

Aulus came into their room with a quick tread, 
and a face alive with varying expressions. 

“ What! Sitting here alone?” he cried merrily. 
“ There are guests in the atrium.” 

“And nobody announced them?” cried Julia, 
rising. 

“ I announce them, for I brought them. 
Mother,” his voice shook in spite of himself, 


“ the Lady Enone and |hat fair Agistlia, who 
resembles you and me, are awaiting you.” 

“ How kind of them to thus return our visit 
without delay!” 

Pamphylia rose and gently shook into even 
folds her soft, dove-colored tunic, rich with steel 
embroidery. “ Come, Julia, we must not keep 
them waiting.” 

“ Mother,” — Aulus drew her arm within his 
own, — “ have you never thought we might, some- 
time, come upon some trace of our Cleone? Does 
not even this resemblance touch you to won- 
der?” 

She stopped to peer into his face, which he 
tried to keep impassive. 

“ Ah, Aulus, I dare not wonder— nor hope. I 
have been so often allured and then deceived. 
Leave me in peace.” 

“ Y'es, mother, but ” — they were nearing the 
atrium — “ I have heard a strange tale about this 
fair lady.” 

Julia pressed closer to listen, as she followed. 

“ She is of Roman birth — a patrician — and she 
was stolen when three years old from — ” 

“ My son, why do you torture me?” 

At the cry, he swept aside a curtain, and she 
stood in the large reception chamber. Back at 
its far end, beyond the impluvium, was a small 
group; here, close at hand, was one slender 
figure. 

“ Mother!” it cried in a small, pathetic voice, 
“ mother, know you not your little Cleone?” 

Pamphylia looked and believed. The rest, 
waiting breathlessly to see her faint or fall, had 
no need for fears. JEnone was right when she 
said joy did not harm. 

“ It is my child!” she said in a strong tone of 
deep conviction, and reaching out her longing, 
empty arms, she drew her baby to her breast. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ELIZABETH IN DUNGEON AND ARENA. 

E UNICE was indeed dying. The outdoor 
hardships through which she had passed, 
though they had weakened her frame, 
might have been withstood, but the dampness 
and gloom of the dungeon added thereto were 
more than she could endure. Her end was near. 
Elizabeth, before whom a hideous death loomed 
on the morrow, was now indifferent to all but 
her companion, who lay against her breast gasp- 
ing for breath. Through the efforts of Cleotas 
and Hector a mattress had been provided her, 
and a small lamp burned feebly in the close cell, 
while the prison leech had just departed, the 
medicine he left behind sending out a strange, 
pungent odor that filled the air. 

Junius, Nadab, and Salome had been there 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


91 


also, but were permitted only a short interview 
on account of the sufferer. Elizabeth’s good- 
night had been calm and tearless — indeed, all 
had tried to subdue their feelings in respect to 
the near presence of death, and had simply whis- 
pered lingeringly: 

“ We will see you again in the morning.” 

Elizabeth, bending over the close comrade and 
friend of months, almost envied her the natural 
death so rapidly approaching, but put out of her 
mind her own horrible expectations of the mor- 
row, the better to nurse and comfort the sick 
one. The latter was breathing heavily, now, 
quite unconscious, and it was with difficulty 
that her faithful friend could rouse her to re- 
ceive a portion of the medicine to be given at 
stated intervals, marked by the hour-glass the 
physician had left«on the stone floor at her side. 

As Elizabeth prepared the mixture— this 
strange-smelling powder stirred into thin wine— 
her hand trembled with weakness, and was al- 
most transparent against the lamplight, while 
her sweet face with its large, clear eyes and deli- 
cate features seemed cut from marble. In spite 
of her care, she spilled a considerable portion of 
the powder, which lodged amid the folds of her 
tunic and yellowed it slightly wherever it clung. 
But there was enough left, she was glad to see, 
and gently raising the sufferer’s head, she held 
the shallow measure to her lips. 

Too late! For an instant the drooped eyes 
lifted surprisedly as if at some remarkable 
vision, then dropped back in her head. There 
was an unmistakable noise in the wasted throat, 
and Elizabeth felt the form straighten and 
stiffen in her arms. The poor prisoner — the 
blessed Christian— had passed to her reward! 

Elizabeth laid her gently back and looked 
down upon her for a long time, with something 
like a smile on her lips. “ To-morrow I will be 
with thee in Paradise!” she murmured, then 
pressed the tired lids softly down, and gathered 
the worn robe decently about her limbs. “ Rest, 
sweet soul, and be forever with our Lord!” was 
her inner benediction, as she at length stepped 
to the cell door and gave the signal agreed upon 
to the guard without. 

He soon entered. “ Is she gone?” he asked. 

Elizabeth bowed her head, but as he stooped 
with rude haste to lift the wasted figure, she 
added quickly: 

“ Gently, friend! She is a woman.” 

The appeal, so softly spoken, seemed to touch 
even his calloused soul. With an apologetic 
mutter he controlled his hurry to something 
like decorum, and calling another guard, the 
two bore the body out slowly and with perfect 
decency, the one left behind gazing after the 
gloomy little funeral train through a mist of 
tears. * But Elizabeth was faint from weariness 
and lack of rest, and soon that deep exhaustion 
of mind and body, which seems so near to utter 
extinction, gained possession of all her senses. 
Sinking back upon the lately- vacated mattress, 


she dropped into a state partly sleep, partly in- 
sensibility, and knew no more till the day was 
come again. 

It is evidently a special day in Rome. From 
earliest dawn the streets have been teeming 
with the plebeian classes hastening to and fro 
on busy errands, all tending to one spot — the 
great amphitheatre of Taurus in the Campus 
Martins. Here a group of carpenters, tl^eir 
girdles bristling with tools, go chattering by to 
finish some delayed work on the safety rampart 
surrounding the arena, for it is said these new 
beasts are large and powerful; next two tent- 
makers hurry along, with rolls of sail-cloth, 
great needles, and waxed threads, to repair a 
rent in the velarium, or roof-awning, caused by 
a sharp and sudden gust of wind last evening: 
then a party of country people in curious garb, 
speaking as curious a dialect, go pounding <by on 
bare feet of liorn-like hardness, intent on what 
they are soon to witness; and in rapid procession 
follows a company of burly, beetle-browned 
men, almost naked, and loud in talk and arro- 
gance, for whom the crowd separates in admir- 
ing curiosity— they are gladiators. Some mer- 
chants’ slaves come next, with goods for the 
booths which their masters have had con- 
structed just outside the amphitheatre, and be- 
hind them are three jockeys in gay attire, lead- 
ing a group of prancing horses, whose tufted 
heads show them to be participants# in the 
chariot races to-day; while, .crowding their high- 
stepping heels and exchanging jokes and laugh- 
ter with the street-loungers, is a company of 
mountebanks leading a tame and funny bear- 
in fact, it is easy to see it is circus-day in Rome! 
Circus-day for the populace — doomsday for 
the condemned. 

As the hours advance, the crowds thicken and 
change. Amid the slaves and plebeians can 
now be seen, often, the gay car of a party in rich 
attire, all carrying small banners of one color; 
or the lectica of some senator, sporting the rib- 
bons of his favorite contestant in the Games, 
most of them denoting certain chariot-drivers, 
this sport having grown rapidly in public favor 
lately. 

There is a flourish of trumpets, the gleam of a 
golden eagle held high, the flash of steel in the 
sunlight, and a cohort of the royal guards 
sweeps by, ready to take its place in the Campus 
and preserve order over the two or three score 
thousands likely to assemble for the day. Fol- 
lowing these is a rabble of common people, 
mostly small boys and slaves, and they make 
directly for the Campus, intent on watching 
some of the military evolutions to follow, for 
this plain has always been used as a parade- 
ground and sporting-field. Now, however, it is 
largely occupied by buildings of great splendor, 
their marble columns stretching along the 
streets in all directions— baths, temples, 
theatres, and mausoleums— nearly all memorials 


92 


THE WEE STEER OF PHILIPPI. 


to some great man long since laid low in death. 
Facing some of these is the succession of 
terraces called the Janiculum, all beautiful with 
gardens and stately homes, and considered the 
healthiest spot in Rome. 

Past all this the people pour, and finally reach 
the immense oval-shaped structure where the 
Games are to be held. As they near its vicinity 
the crowds grow denser and more lively, for the 
soimd of martial music is heard, and they know 
that before a great while a fine flourish of 
trumpets will announce the opening of the 
Games. They no longer linger among the col- 
umns of the wide porticoes, but pour into the 
stone building through the many wide entrances, 
and hasten to secure a ticket at the small loggia 
where the jam is thickening, and there is a con- 
stant noise of cries, imprecations, and laughter. 

Once inside, the breathless ticket-holder may 
stop to glance around him, for the foyer is wide 
and comfortable. Standing in one of the open- 
ings between the segments of seats he can see 
the great ellipsis of the arena walled in to the 
height of perhaps fifteen feet, the broad ram- 
part topped by a bronze railing ending in sharp 
spikes, as a further protection against any sud- 
den dash of some powerful beast, goaded to des- 
peration. 

On a line with this wall is the podium, or 
gallery, reserved for the favored aristocratic 
class. Midway of its oval, and close to the ter- 
minal nfarkings of the course, is a canopied en- 
closure displaying the purple and gold of 
royalty, with chairs on either side for the 
tribunes, praetors, sediles, curules, and censors, 
Avlio assist in the government. Opposite is a 
segment separated from adjoining seats in 
which is a pleasing flutter of white, and he 
knows this vicinity is claimed by the Vestals, 
the only women allowed outside the latticed gal- 
lery set apart for them, three tiers further up, 
save such as may be found in the exclusive 
space reserved for the Emperor. 

The flow of the people along the preecinctiones 
has been incessant for the last hour, and the 
nimble locarii, or ushers, have been busy verify- 
ing the numbers on their tickets with those on 
the benches of the higher galleries where the 
populace is seated; the poor slaves being rele- 
gated to a sky gallery close up under the awn- 
ing. Here the velarium is now rolled back, and 
tugs at its guy-ropes like a confined sail, while 
away below there is a bustle of sand-strewing 
over the arena, the sound of a hammer driving 
some loose bolt home in the iron gates confining 
the beasts, and beneath all, like the low thunder 
of the surf before a storm, rises the uneasy 
growl and grumble of these savage creatures in 
their dens that underlie the great structure. 

The vast audience is nearly seated at last. 
The locarii are leaning back against the curv- 
ing walls to catch their breath; the students of 
the schools, accompanied by their instructors, 
have demurely taken places under their severe 


eyes, only to break into mirthful chatter later; 
the velarium has been finally adjusted at the 
proper angle to exclude the sun and admit the 
air, and the people are telling each other it nTUst 
be nearly time, for the editor has just taken his 
raised seat ready to conduct the programme, 
when there is one clear, long-drawn trumpet 
note, then a great clarion blare that may be 
heard far over Rome — the Games are begun! 

One last quick rush of the inevitably late, and 
the doors are closed. The editor rises and 
salutes the Emperor— who politely responds— 
then turns with a gesture towards the end of the 
ellipse, and through the suddenly-opened gates 
pours a great procession made up of all the par- 
ticipants of the day— poets, musicians, wrestlers, 
net-throwers, leapers, runners, tumblers, 
athletes, armed fighters, ridefs, chariot racers, 
a train of tame elephants and other beasts, and 
lastly a long, pathetic, slow-moving line of 
doomed captives, many from far countries, who, 
not understanding a word that is spoken, only 
realize in their trembling isolation that some- 
thing terrible is about to happen, from which 
there is no possible way of escape. 

Through the kindness of Gaius and Aldus, 
both of whom are in the podium, Junius and 
Nadab are well seated in the first row of the 
second maeniana, and now with eyes dulled by 
weeping, and faces drawn with grief, they 
watch for a last glimpse of their loved one amid 
this glittering show of man and beast. The 
women have all remained at home — Salome, 
face downwards on her couch, in bitter weeping; 
Agistha (now Cleone) with her new-found 
mother and sister, sometimes walking wildly to 
and fro, sometimes dropping to her knees in 
earnest prayer; while Pamphylia fondles the 
laughing baby, Gaius, and feels that he is more 
nearly like the child she long ago lost than is this 
distracted wife, who can find no solace outside 
her religion. 

The procession has but half circled the arena 
when Nadab touches his father’s arm. 

“Is not that Hector, the centurion? See— 
amid that group of gladiators with the bronze 
headgear!” 

Junius nods half obliviously, for his eyes 
strain onward to the less showy ending of the 
motley, serpent-like string, and presently he 
utters a stilled sound, between a sob and a groan 
—there is Elizabeth! She is pacing slowly in 
her flowing white robe, her hands clasped 
lightly before her, and her eyes down-dropped. 
She seems almost to float, so light is her move- 
ment, and there is such an absence of all emo- 
tion-even expression— in the still figure that 
one might think each step involuntary; that she 
was walking in her sleep. 

At length the long train has made the entire 
circuit, and passes out of sight, to be replaced 
by a band of discus throwers, who have a lively, 
innocent game, preliminary to the more blood- 
curdling scenes to follow. 


THE WBESTLEB OF PHILIPPI 
It was nearing noon, and the people were 


growing weary with the heat and long sitting, 
when, to whet their somewhat jaded appetites, 
it was announced that the beasts would now 
appear. Junius at once stiffened into an im- 
movable quiet. Na- 
dab moaned and 
hid his eyes. But 
Cleotas whispered 
presently: 

“Not yet, 
friends. These are 
men, and each has 
a short, two-edged 
sword to fight the 
monsters with. 

There are our 
Christian friends 
and many more— 
but no women.” 

It was a short 
but bloody specta- 
cle, and Nadab, 
sickened and faint, 
leaned heavily 
against Cleotas, 
whose face was 
gray with sympa- 
thy. When the 
dead had been re- 
moved with long 
grapplin g- h o o k s , 
and fresh sand' 
sprinkled over the 
stains, there was an 
instant’s pause. 

Then from one of 
the doors entered a 
single figure in sim- 
ple white, the dark 
hair banded neatly 
in place, the hands 
softly clasped, the 
eyes upraised as if 
in prayer. Junius 
and Nadab saw her 
as through a haze of 
blood, yet presently 
their eyes cleared, 
and their tortured 
nerves grew still. 

Something i n her 
gracious p r e s e n ce 
seemed to rebuke 
their horror. 

She advanced slowly, but with perfect dig- 
nity, and apparently without fear, though four 
fierce leopards, just released from their barriers, 
were slipping and snarling around the wide 
space in which she stood. Junius, thinking he 
could not endure the sight which must follow, 
yet felt his eyes glued to that strangely solemn 
figure, and Nadab, moaning, crouched and 
looked, and murmured: 

“God will save her yet!” 

Elizabeth appeared to see and hear nothing. 


93 

All her thoughts followed her eyes’ uplifted gaze 
—her soul was with her Lord. For the moment 
an ecstasy of faith, of love, of perfect surrender, 
possessed her whole being, and she felt the 
protecting arms of Christ about her. 

The feverish 
chatter and rustle 
of the great au- 
dience grew still 
as she came slow- 
ly to the center, 
for something in 
her presence 
awed them— and 
besides, what ailed 
the beasts? Still 
crouching, still 
creeping, as if to 
spring, they came, 
but halted when a 
short distance from 
her, then turned 
and sped away like 
whipped curs, 
growling and pro- 
testing as they fled, 
and, stopping in a 
huddled group, 
gazed at her with 
red, angry orbs, 
sniffing the air 
discontentedly, and 
lashing their tails 
against their 
spotted sides. 

Elizabeth, now in 
the center of the 
great oval, 
stopped and 
dropped slow- 
ly to her 
knees. She 
had had an 
instant of full 
conscious- 
ness, and re- 
alized that 
danger was 
near. She 
would meet 
it as she had 
met her ar- 
rest — in the 
attitude of 
supplication. 
Now was the time for the beasts to spring — why 
did they not? 

The amphitheatre was as still as death, and 
every eye was fixed on that one slender Chris- 
tian woman, who in heavenly contemplation 
seemed lost to all the world, and on those four 
wild beasts edging timidly away without offer- 
ing to devour her, except with their greedy eyes. 
Suddenly Nadab sprang wildly up. 

“ A miracle!” he shouted. “ God has saved 
her! The leopards dare not kill her!” and 



Hector, kneeling’ above him, looked anxiously for the downturncd 
thumb signals of mercy.— See page 94. 


94 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI 


then fell back in a paroxysm of hysterical 
weeping. 

The cry was caught up— the excitement 
spread. 

“A miracle! A miracle!” yelled the change- 
able populace, wild with this strange new ex- 
citement of mercy, so uncommon and so delight- 
ful. “ She is pure! She is innocent! The gods 
protect her!” And four times ten thousand 
down-turned thumbs begged for the captive's 
life. 

Nero, feeling the cold chills of awed amaze- 
ment run down his spine, was glad to grant the 
favor, and his imperial nod revoked her death 
sentence. Amid a tumult that rent the air with 
shouts and set it all a-flutter with waving hand- 
kerchiefs and girdles, Elizabeth, still in a half 
daze, was led from the arena, free from all 
further persecution— and the Games went on. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

TRIUMPH THROUGH FAITH. 

T HE noon recess was over, and the audience, 
rested by the movement and the meal, 
which many took in the building, was 
ready for fresh horrors. Nero was now accom- 
panied by Poppoea and one or two ladies-in-wait- 
ing, and Cleotas had returned to his place, leav- 
ing Junius and Nadab with their restored Eliza- 
beth, scarcely yet believing in their great relief. 
Salome also, seeing that the reunited could well 
spare her, had come with her husband to be a 
fearful witness, behind the women’s gilded grat- 
ing, of her brother’s combat with the blustering 
Anisarclius. Gaius and Aulus were in their 
places, and Julia was with the party in the royal 
box. There was unusual interest in this event, 
not only for them, but many more. The singular 
compact between the Emperor and the centurion 
had been noised abroad, and all knew what 
royal interest and princely wagers depended 
upon it. Few remembered the humble Christian 
whose life hung in the balance, nor gave a. 
thought to the anxieties which must overwhelm 
him in his cell. 

But, in reality, Herklas was sustained as 
Elizabeth had been. He had long since given 
himself to Christ, not for prosperity and peace 
only— not for quiet days and restful nights— but 
for adversity; for old age and weakness, if they 
were to be his portion; for death in the prime 
of manhood, if such was the Lord’s will. All he 
asked was to be able in some way to testify of 
Him. The flesh truly was weak, and shrank at 
times from the brutality and shame of such a 
death in public; but the spirit was submissive 
and ready. If this soldier who had so oddly 
assumed his place succeeded, he must expect a 


degrading servitude; if he failed, he must take 
his place in the arena to be easily disposed of by 
the powerful Anisarclius. The details had been 
given him by the jailer, with many an oath and 
chuckle, and in either case his future did not 
promise much that was desirable. Yet Herklas 
“ rested in the Lord and was glad.” 

It was about the eighth hour when the 
wrestlers appeared. There were several pairs, 
but Anisarclius and Hector absorbed the inter- 
est and led the little procession, as in the cus- 
tomary manner they advanced to the royal box 
and gave their strangely touching salutation; 

“ Ave Imperator, morituri te salutant.” (Hail, 
Emperor! they who are about to die salute thee.) 

Then each pair took the prescribed position- 
right foot projected, knees slightly bent out- 
ward, arms and chest extended, body supple and 
alert. The handkerchief fluttered down as a 
signal, and the clutching, writhing, swaying, 
twisting, and bending began, the audience sit- 
ting almost motionless in its interest over the 
intertwisted forms. 

It was quickly seen that Hector, if slightly 
the smaller, was the more ready and quick, but 
few among those thousands understood whence 
came the wondrous strength and skill, the readi- 
ness to parry, the assurance in attack, that he 
soon developed; for he, like David of old, was 
“ contending in the strength of the Lord,” — 
wrestling bodily for his brother’s life, as lie had 
long been wrestling, spiritually, with the powers 
of evil for his own soul. 

The contest had proceeded but a short time 
when there was a yell of triumph, led by Nero — 
Anisarclius was down! But only for an in- 
stant. Regaining his footing after a bitter 
struggle of a few seconds, he seemed roused to 
fury by the disgrace, and for a while showed a 
strength which seemed invincible. Indeed, it 
was plainly observable that Hector had all lie 
could possibly do to hold his own against him. 

But the Olympic trick was swift and sure, and 
Anisarclius in his mad rage was not prepared 
for it. While he relied on his superior strength 
to down liis opponent, he had not taken into ac- 
count the watchful alertness that Hector had 
never lost for an instant, and just as lie was 
ready to shout his triumphant “I have him!” 
feeling the sinewy figure of the Greek give way 
before him— neither lie nor any one else knew 
just what happened, but something quick and 
sinuous as a serpent’s spring gave his left ankle 
a twist that caused a second’s hot agony, and he 
fell so heavily that he lay still, utterly uncon- 
scious for the time being. 

Amid the roars of applause Hector, kneeling 
above him, looked anxiously for the down- 
turned-thumb signals of mercy, having no desire 
for the death of his opponent; but instead up 
went the clenched fists that doomed, and in- 
stantly the cruel grappling-hooks dragged out 
the unconscious wrestler— no longer champion 
of Rome. 


95 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI. 


Then Hector, proud only in a strength not liis 
own, glad only because of his brother, marched 
with stately tread around the arena with the 
four other victors, to receive the plaudits of the 
multitude, and as he bent low beneath the im- 
perial party, Poppoea caught from her white 
wrist a blazing jewel and tossed it, with the 
cry : 

“ For Hector, victorious!” 

But a bunch of roses flung at the same mo- 
ment from the fair hand of Julia, his patroness, 
was to the man so newly born to better things a 
more welcome guerdon than the other, for it 
meant the purest friendship. 

The day was ended, and the sun had set in 
deepest crimson, giving promise of a fair to- 
morrow. Salome, thankful over Hector’s vic- 
tory, marveling over Elizabeth’s escape, was 
crossing the court to seek Nadab and inquire 
how his mother was resting— for, with her hand 
clasped in that of her husband, the weary 
martyr had been sleeping some time— when she 
saw the youth crossing to her. A robe of white, 
stained and soiled, was thrown over his arm. 

“ It is mother’s,” he whispered, “ and should 
be cleansed at once. It is tainted with the 
prison odor.” 

“ Frison odor!” exclaimed Salome, noticing im- 
mediately the strangely pungent scent clinging 
to its folds. “ No, »that is something more. How 
singular it is! Not exactly disagreeable, but 
exceedingly penetrating. It makes me almost 
dizzy.” 

She took the garment from him and followed 
the court to the rear, where she sought the lava- 
tory, presided over by a tall, dusky slave from 
Africa. The powerful woman had no sooner 
taken the soiled robe from her mistress than she 
started a little, then sniffed at it inquiringly. 

A moment later she discovered the pale yellow 
stains of the powder spilled by Elizabeth the 
night before, when ministering to her dying 
companion, and looked up with a smile that dis- 
played all her strong teeth in their perfection. 

“Alpha! Eeopard’s-bane!” she cried. “This 
powder comes from a plant in my native land. 
It grows in our jungles, and all leopards shun 
and fear it as they do the great cobra that 
crushes them. They know its odor, and go far 
around rather than trample upon the plant. 
Whose robe is this?” 

Salome’s eyes widened. She had,- with simple 
credulity, fully believed in the miraculous inter- 
position of God to save her friend, and for a 
minute felt deeply disappointed. 

As usual in perplexity, or trouble, she 
hastened to Cleotas, who was resting on a divan 
after his long and exciting day, and told him, 
with deep regret, of her discovery. 

“ It was no miracle, you see,” she ended de- 
jectedly. 

Cleotas was wiser and only smiled. “But. 
what is a miracle, my Salome? Simply some 


happening which transcends our powers of com- 
prehension. Nothing is miraculous to the Al- 
mighty, and He works always through His own 
laws, only a few of which are intelligible to us. 
This event will always be a miracle to the 
Roman populace, who do not understand, though 
you and I have discovered its simple relation to 
a natural law. You like to think our Christ in- 
terposed to save Elizabeth, and so He did. Is it 
any the less His doing because He chose to work 
it out by natural means? Sometime, perhaps, 
my wife, we shall understand still more of these 
wondrous workings of the Divine mind, and 
there will be no more miracles. But all* the 
same, God saved our friend to-day.” 

So Salome was comforted. 

While she sat leaning against her husband in 
the soft twilight a servant entered to announce 
guests, and the two hastened to the atrium to 
meet Aulus Clotius and Gaius. Their manner 
was marked by suppressed excitement, and as 
Aulus requested the husband and wife to return 
with him to his palace, there to meet some old 
friends, the eyes of both rested upon Salome 
with much seeming interest. 

“ Is Hector there?” she asked. “ I have 
thought it so strange that he did not come to 
talk over his great victory with us. Was it not 
grand! And how modestly he received the 
plaudits, and the gift of the empress! My whole 
being thrilled with pride as I watched him!” 

“ Hector is a wonderful man,” returned Aulus 
with deep conviction. “ He has a greater heart 
than even you have recognized. But come; he 
waits, with other friends, to greet you.” 

Salome sent a servant to excuse Cleotas and 
herself to their guests for a short time, and the 
four entered the man-car awaiting them out- 
side, horse vehicles not being allowed upon the 
narrow streets after sundown. 

As they neared the palace among the royal 
mansions on the magnificent Palatine Hill, 
Salome began to catch something of the excite- 
ment with which the air seemed vibrating 
around her. Who were these old* friends? 
Whence had they come, and why had Hector so 
persistently absented himself since the close of 
the spectacles? Scarcely a thought did she give 
to the man whom Hector had saved that he 
might possess him as a slave— as all believed. 

They dismounted at the guarded door in the 
street wall, and Aulus led them rapidly past the 
porter, with his dog, across the ostium, and 
through the atrium, to an inner room opening 
upon the peristyle, and consecrated to family 
use. 

It was well lighted with many brazen lamps 
of quaint shapes suspended from the ceiling, 
and seemed quite full of people. The ladies, 
Pampliylia and Julia, came quickly forward, fol- 
lowed by Agistlia, whose strange story Salome 
knew. But she hardly recognized the pale, sad 
lady of that day at the Three Taverns in this 
radiant creature with great, brilliant eyes, 


96 


THE WRESTLER OF PHILIPPI 


flushed cheeks, and smiling lips. What could it 
mean? Was not her husband one of those 
doomed to death as a Christian martyr? Could 
it be he had escaped? 

Hector advanced to take his sister’s hand, and 
drew her towards a wasted but happy-faced 
figure half reclining on a divan. The barber and 
the bath had made a great change in the appear- 
ance of Herklas. With the removal of his beard 
youth seemed to have returned to his face. 

Salome looked, and stopped— still gazed, and 
faltered forwards, with a faint cry: 

“Hector, who— oh! is it — can it be — Herklas!” 

The last cry was one of certainty, and she flew 
to his arms as he rose to greet her. 

Then followed a scene almost indescribable. 
Everyone tried to explain, and tell the many- 
sided story, and in a whirl of wonder and delight 
Salome was clasped by Agistha, who called her 
“ sister,” and surrounded by the ladies of the 
house, who claimed her as one of the noble 
family through marriage. 

“ For you see,” called out Aulus above the din, 
“ Herklas being my brother-in-law, you and our 
brave Hector are also my sister and brother, 
while my dear mother would claim each and all 
of us as her very own in her pride of family.” 

It was an evening of unalloyed delight, follow- 
ing a day of fears and expectations terrible to 
bear. But we may not linger longer with the 
reunited. One word as to their future, though. 


There is a certain portion of southern France 
most delightful as to scenery and climate, the 
name of which proves its Roman derivation. 
Laved by the soft waters of the Mediterranean 
and guarded by the Alps, its climate is ideal and 
the vine flourishes the year round. It is a Roman 
province, boasting excellent roads, fine build- 
ings, and a certain degree of civilization. Here, 
in time, our families gathered, Aulus Clotius as 
the reigning Proconsul, with the honorary title 
of Legati Caesar, and almost unlimited power 
over the lands and subjects about him. 

Hector was at once appointed by him chief of 
the military forces. Cleotas first magistrate, and 
Herklas elder and governor of the first Christian 
church there established. 

Junius was given an excellent civic office, and 
Nadab was delighted with the gift of a farm; 
and here, far from the restlessness of Roman 
life at the Capital, they lived in peace and com- 
fort, loving and serving God in Christ, doing 
good to man as they found opportunity, and 
leaving their humanizing impress upon the ruder 
folk about them. 

Thus they escaped the terrible burning of 
Rome, about three years later, and the fiery per- 
secutions for which it served as cause, through 
which Paul, a stately figure and dauntless spirit, 
lived, wrote, and waited on the Lord until his 
triumphal martyrdom, fearing no man, because 
“ One was his Master, even .Christ.” 



A A. A A AAAAAAA.^.AAA .AAAAA.AAAAAA AAAA.A.A.>.AAA.AAAAA.AAAAAAAAA 


A -A A A. 


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